Go Figure
by kricket
Summary: Max and Alec's friendship progresses. Do I detect wedding bells? MA
1. Go Figure

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.  
  
  
Go Figure  
  
She laid down on his century-old, rotting bed, breathing too heavily to speak. She was worn out in the aftermath, yet strangely rejuvenated. Her hair sprawled limply against his sweaty but fully clothed chest. Alec's damp palm lightly grasped hers, assuring himself of her presence. Him on his back with her curled snuggly at his side. Max slowly, lethargically raised her head, giving him a small, grateful smile, which Alec returns unabashedly. Comforted, Max returned her cheek to its designated spot on his chest.  
  
He'd be aching in the morning. Max smiled at the thought. She could just picture him groaning rolling heavily out of bed when all he would want to do was escape back under his sheets. For all his tough facade, he really did have a heart underneath. Not too many guys would take a beat down from a girl, just because she had to release some emotions.  
  
Underneath her, Alec moaned sorely.   
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Yeah right," he griped, using that I'm-not-really-mad-I-just-want-to-complain tone of voice men seemed to use so often.  
  
Who knew when the tradition started. One day out of the blue, the small bickering fest became a heated argument. What had they been fighting about anyway?   
  
Max jerked her face trying to remember; Alec's hand halted the lazy circle patterns on her back, checking her face for any sign of annoyance. He received nothing; she was too far-gone in yet another memory. He gave the usual not-quite-careless shrug, and pulled her closer to him; her body relaxed once again.  
  
What had started the clash was hazy to Max; it was just another bumping of heads. It was even in the usual fashion, her accusing him and Alec lifting his hands in surrender. Swiftly, the remarks became more brutal on her end and less carefree-sarcastic on his.   
  
Maybe it was Logan again, or the war with White, with the world, with themselves. A hand had struck out deftly connecting with the other's chin. The full out, knock-him-on-his-back-and-bury-him combat aura replaced the previously innocent appearance. The abandoned alley in the back of good ole Terminal City transformed into a boxing ring. They exchanged blows for what felt like forever, fighting each other's disgustingly egotistical yet noble personalities, fighting Rachel's soulful brown eyes and Logan's wry grin, both stolen from them. Each blow, kick, scratch, and breath raged against every lie they had ever been thrown, whether at Manticore, the real world, or in love.   
  
Alec shifted his arm that had been wrapped around Max. Probably had fallen asleep, Max grinned at the thought.   
  
Alec was the first to break the twenty-eight minute silence. "What are you thinking about?" He asked softly, not really wanting to break the rare peaceful moment.  
  
"Nothing much."  
  
"If you say so." Yeah, that sounded really convinced.  
  
"I was thinking about..." Max trailed off, not sure of where to go next. Hmmm, honesty or lying?  
  
A warm finger tipped her chin. The low, almost none existent brightness of twilight lazily filtered through the homemade curtain of ripped sheets. Even in the dimness, Max could see Alec's eyes. The cat DNA must have been faulty, she kept seeing some unrestrained, indefinable emotion shift in his eyes. Their faces were close together, but obviously not close enough for Alec. Suddenly, her body pillow disappeared, as he rolled to his side, carefully placing Max completely on his bed. Their faces were a little nearer to one another, Alec's breath rhythmically stroking her forehead.  
  
A dark eyebrow lifted. Alec put on his "teacher's" face, the one where you are caught passing a note in class and now you are supposed to answer an impossibly hard question. He cleared his throat. "Well?"  
  
"The first fight," Max blurted out.  
  
Alec expression dropped the sarcasm. Max cringed, ready to be looking at a blank brick wall, a tactic used to avoid showing emotion. He had another ten years of training; his mask would probably be harder. Instead, he became more intense, his hand gripping hers a little tighter. "The first fight," he repeated roughly.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They both lost themselves in the past. Even Manticore stamina had run out eventually. They had fallen against opposite walls of the alley, air filling their lungs painfully. The daggers in their eyes had transformed into an unorthodox healing balm. All wounds were open, both physical and spiritual, the blood filling the already grubby gutters. They laid in that fashion, gasping, for a short eternity. Soon the waves of pain subsided and both were able to see past their tears. Two tentative bodies laboriously drew to each other on hands and knees, collapsing as one in the center ground the previous No-Man's-Land.   
  
Since then, they would show up at each other's doorstep, so wired and tense they were on the verge of explosion. So they exploded on each other, the person exploding on the offense, the punching bag on the defense. Which led them to this moment in time. Max had come over after another guilt fest; fighting for air, she almost threw a punch before Alec even had the door fully open.  
  
Bringing themselves to the present, they both unconsciously sighed simultaneously. Upon realizing this, they both chuckled. The tension evaporated.   
  
"That was fun that day," Max started.  
  
"Right. Now have a few nice permanent scars on my perfect body." He paused, faking some deep thought. "No matter, I'll just tell the ladies they're badges from the night I took out some big bad guy. But I'll probably have to change the name each time; can't have all the broken hearts tracking me down." He shrugged. "No biggie." Alec pulled his best puppy-left-in-the-rain-face on, ready for the playful blow which never came. He glanced at Max expectantly.  
  
"Earth to Maxie."  
  
Started out of another reverie, Max blushed furiously. "Why Maxie, I don't believe I have ever seen you blush. Makes me wonder what thoughts you were thinking..." Alec trailed off in that suggestive tone of his, but his eyebrows waggled comically.  
  
"I am very aware of you sexually." Max blurted. Mental slap. All this blurting. What had happened to her more subtle approaches? Feeling Alec tense, she tried to shrug nonchalantly.  
"But, it isn't erotic."  
  
Sarcastic Alec was back. "Hmmm, Max. Could you be anymore vague?"  
  
"Of course." Alec shot her The Look.  
  
"It is just that..." she trailed off, wetting her lips. Pity she didn't notice Alec's quick glance to her lips. "You're male..."  
  
"And that is my greatest downfall as a human being," Alec finished dramatically, hand to the forehead and all. "At least according to O.C. anyway."  
  
Now she did slap him, impatiently. "Would you please stop interrupting?!?"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"And I'm female." Alec was about to shoot off another characteristic remark, but Max's humorless expression stopped him just in time. "I don't know if it's because of this virus thing with Logan," her partner was unusually silent on the subject. "Or if it is just your vitality. I feel your, um, masculinity and I respond on some level. It's probably mostly because you're so close to me on a personal level." Even the stunned Alec snorted at that, but Max just continued on. "You are. You comprehend me and see my weaknesses and faults and my past. You don't condemn me. That's really important to me. Maybe it's just the way we are made as human beings. Longing for human contact from the other sex. I think girls are closer to girls and guys to guys on some level because they have the experiences, you know. But I think men and women relate because they balance each other out. And you balance me out."   
  
Silence.  
  
Max cleared her throat nervously. "Well," she tried a weak smile. "I just want to say thank you."  
  
Silence.   
  
"I gotta go. I will see you later okay?"  
  
Silence. Max gathered herself quickly and left.   
  
*****  
  
At the door slam Alec rolled over with a moan, sprawling himself across his bed, his head rested heavily on his pillow. He reminded himself to breathe. She would come around to the obvious eventually; he let out a masochistic laugh. That was a joke. Good thing she left when she did though. When her face had scrunched up in thought, Alec almost lost his reasoning on why he shouldn't press his lips against hers.   
  
So different from Rachel.  
  
Turns out he fell for a hard knock who would just as soon would kill him as to stand within a mile of him when she wasn't having a moment of emotional weakness.  
  
Go figure.  
  
*****  
  
  
Out in the hall of his apartment, Max silently banged her head against the wall. Mentally chastising herself for getting lost in a moment, blurting out too much. But one thing stuck out the most.  
  
Turns out she fell for a sarcastic, pain-in-the-butt G.I. Joe who still carried around the necklace of a lost dead girl.  
  
Go figure. 


	2. Another Day in Paradise

Disclaimer: If I owned them, do you honestly think I would piddle away my time on FanFiction? Nope.  
  
Another Day in Paradise  
  
It was another bright, sunny day in the wonderful city of Seattle. Robins chirping their ever so uplifting song and the smell of honeysuckle wafted through the air.  
  
Puh-leeze.   
  
Ever since the Pulse, the sun seemed to be a mistake. Nothing should have the ability to shine with golden vigor on such a gray part of the globe. Head to Europe, the Mediterranean must be nice this stifling time of year. Shining on America was a waste of precious gas; the sun only had so many billion years to "blaze brilliantly".   
  
Robins' cultivation rate was almost zilch and honeysuckle had to be an endangered species by now anyway.  
  
Early morning. Overcast skies, 83% chance of rain; humidity up to 92. The lower-class Seattle inhabitants struggled to their feet, both figuratively and literally. Men and women drudged to dead-end jobs while book-laden rug rats began their walk up hill to school. Both ways.   
  
A whimper escapes as the last moment of sweet dreams slips through fingers. One arm raises itself with Frankenstein-like grace, quickly flopping back on its bed and tucking itself safely under its sheets.  
  
Everything kind of went both ways these days it seemed. Everything was kind of routine. You work your butt off for a "decent" day's pay, go home to the refuge for a bunch of freaks born in genetically-enhanced test tubes, fight off an ancient inbreeding cult, and mentally snarl at an "It's not like That...." well, technically you can't say boyfriend, can ya? And technically, you don't have a job anymore either, so there goes the little cash flow you had.  
  
Now all these routine things may seem a bit painless, but when a body deals with them all at once, he'll need a nice dose of Tylenol 3. Too bad that seemed to have "magically" disappeared off the black-market deliveries lately.  
  
One hand raised to feebly heave a feather-pillow over a man's head. Yeah right, like two and a half inches of nylon, polyester, and plastic feathers could block even the most dismal rays of light from transgenic pupils. A loud groan reverberated off of four plaster-chipped walls.  
  
Needless to say, Alec woke up in one of his fatalistic moods. Everything seemed to have some deep colossal meaning. For example, the shower's temperature would only be acceptable to a penguin. This was a sign he still needed to cool off. He tripped with the utmost transgenic grace because there still sat some undeclared chip on his shoulder that would plant him in the dirt eventually. And because a raindrop fell into the ocean some ten thousand years ago and a butterfly farted in India, he enjoyed a cold cup of coffee more adequately described as goat piss. Strange.  
  
*****  
  
Even ill equipped to face the day, Alec strode into fire. Sighing and popping his neck he quickly scanned for a place to hide for at least another five minutes.   
  
Mole wants the shipment of cigars he was supposed to grab last night, before he was ::ahem:: distracted. No hiding behind his skirts. Now that was a picture.  
  
He looked further left.  
  
His gaze accidentally fell upon that stunning X5...what was her name? Kayla? Kristine? Oh well, something with a "K". She seemed to have some sort of radar out for him. He couldn't even walk two feet into the joint without her eyeballing him expectantly. Thanks, but no thanks; Alec wasn't in the mood to play the Don Juan just yet.   
  
Quick duck behind a crate and she'll think she never actually saw you. It's just straight-out unfair being some sort of Knight on Shining Ninja with all these adoring damsels around. That time there was almost a characteristic smirk, until he remembered the fiery brunette he really wanted to adore him. He conjured up a thought of Rachel's smile to balance out the previous thought.   
  
Slipping his face from behind a crate of pseudo-oranges, Alec spotted his savior. Roughly seven feet, hairy like Cousin It, and lots of little growls, he was probably the most beautiful creature at that moment. Almost more beautiful than...Rachel.  
  
Thank whatever deity for Joshua. Somewhere over the past couple of years Joshua had transformed in to Alec's sounding board and therapist. Kind of like Max and O.C. That thought was enough to light up a gloomy face. A smirk quickly placed itself. For some reason Alec couldn't quite conjure up the image of his dawg with a 'fro, spouting the religion which had finely manicured nails next to godliness and men proof that the devil was...dare he think it? A male.  
  
He did seem to grasp the line "getting busy" pretty well. Unfortunately the phrase seemed to refer to the hopeless "unromantic" couple Max and Logan. Ah well, you walk before to run, right?  
  
"Joshua, my ugly friend, what's happening?"  
  
The studious half-human, half-Webster Dictionary that was Dix frowned over his dusty book. "That was exactly what I would refer to as an endearing term," he shot dryly. Taking a more motherly note, he turned to Joshua, "Why do you put up with the abuse? There are so many other fish in the sea. You should dump him." He casually flicked his thumb over his shoulder towards the offender.   
  
Joshua did his usual chuckle while Alec dramatically raised his hand to his heart to check for a bullet wound. "That hurts," he responded seriously. Well, it would have been serious if not for the dancing eyes. " Joshua and I are soul mates." He clapped his hand on Joshua's shoulder. " And you will probably burn in hell for trying to split us up. You just want him to yourself." He threw a straight-laced sniff in Dix's general direction. "Furthermore," he continued, "I will have you know that I am not insulting Josh in anyway. The term 'ugly' I use in reference to 'cool' or 'awesome'. It's kinda like saying someone's shoes were 'sick' at the turn of the millennium. But you would probably know that if you set down your prose once in a while."  
  
"I see you have returned to your characteristic mood," an unimpressed Dix replied. "If you two lovers don't mind my parting, I bid you adieu."  
  
When Alec turned around, Joshua eyed him seriously. After an uncomfortable pregnant silence, Alec cleared his throat. "What?" He asked.  
  
"Medium-Fella okay?"  
"Always."  
  
"Little-Fella said there was another 'smack down' last night. Looked confused, unhappy this morning."  
  
Alec agitatedly ran a hand threw his hair and smacked himself into a leaning position against the counter. "Another uneventful evening at the 'Loveboat' left her in a mood, what can I say?"  
  
Joshua eyed him with some real concern. "Alec." Trying to break his current train of thought, he switched the topic to something more physical. "Limping. Need something?"  
  
Alec's shoulders seemed to lift a little. "No, Big-Fella, I'm good. Max just took a nice kick to the bad knee."  
  
"The one twisted in the food raid?"  
  
Alec miraculously felt his old self shaping up. He was almost ready to face Max. Almost, one could never feel completely prepared to face that hell's angel. What did Logan see in her anyway?  
  
"The one and only. You know Joshua, I was just trying to figure out which of these lovely ladies is going to have the joy of kissing it and making it feel better. Who would you pick?" He pretended to make a weight scale with his hands. "Legs for days? Or hair like spun gold?" Off of Joshua's frown, "But your probably more into who can smell the better of two prime ribs, huh?" He jokingly bounced a punch off of his confidant's massive arm. "Gotta go. Can't have the 'melodious' bellow of Max so early in the morning. A stomach can only take so much. And would ya smile once in a while Josh? You're gonna end up with frown lines on your frown lines."  
  
Joshua somberly watched Alec's retreating back. He watched Alec's path to Max be cut off by a pair of "the most enchanting green eyes" if his ears didn't mistake him. Another cheap ruse to keep his mind off of things he really cared about. Speaking of which, Joshua's eyes shot up to Max who dazedly worked with Mole on the gun supply of TC. Talk about denial. His frown deepened even further.  
  
No matter how many distractions he could use to block his view, or how many glitches she could search for in him, they were just both ice-skating on denial. Sooner or later, the spring thaw would blow over them.  
  
"Legs for days, spun gold hair, or enchanting green eyes don't matter Alec," he responded quietly. He returned swiftly to his briefly forgotten painting of Gem's baby. He sighed as if defeated, dabbing with his paintbrush. "It just won't be Max." 


	3. She Said Yes

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Maybe in my next life.  
  
She Said Yes  
  
*****  
  
As per usual, the large-mouthed male was the first to break the silence. "Sooo, what's new with you Maxie?"  
  
"Shut up Alec," her tone left no room for argument.   
  
In all fairness, he did try to shut up. But even with all the severe Manticore training, the silence spanned for only three seconds. Okay, maybe four.  
  
"So what is the judge and jury's verdict?" He slipped into one of his happy-go-lucky poses. Even with just the two of them perched on the Space Needle, Alec felt a definite tension. Not one of those tensions where you're afraid you'll let the wrong comment slip and Max might 'accidentally nudge' you off the edge. No, her reply could leave more permanent scars. Of course, Alec being the master of all things 'Denial', easily shrugged off the anxiety. He leaned back, stretching out his legs and holding himself up with his forearms.   
  
Max turned slowly, one minute her profile was reflecting the dusky city lights and the next, her cheerless pupils focused solely on him. Alec reminded himself to breathe, but didn't realize why he needed to. She stared at him, then some vague spot behind him, concentrated deep in thought. By the time her eyes penetrated him again, they were glistening with unshed tears. Max leaned forward imperceptibly, trying to read his mind. What did he think about their present situation?   
  
Alec tried not to let his uneasiness show. The eyes were the windows to the soul, and Max left her barricade at home tonight. And damn his eyes, their doors just wouldn't slam shut. Tonight, there was no way to completely lock away emotion. His eyes looked more like jail cells then even a dirty window. The emotions, words wanted to come out. But he'd be damned before he said them. Let her talk first.  
  
Max shoulder raised high, then sunk like the Titanic on the exhale. She felt defeated, but somewhere deep inside a tiny candle furtively lit itself.  
  
"Is this going to be a problem for you?" She asked in a tiny voice, her eyes still boring into him. She might as well have yelled it, for the way Alec jumped. He seemed caught off guard, like he had been distracted with his own thoughts. He should be, these were some serious matters to be dealing with.  
  
"Yeah," he leapt back into his old nature. He pretended to concentrate deeply, "I haven't had too much success with the ladies recently anyway, and it's only 18 months, right?" He 'came' to his conclusion. "I asked anyway. I mean if we didn't who we be around to beat me in line? Cindy? She'd kill me with her anti-male preaching within a week." That seemed to earn a small twist of Max's lips.   
  
Another small silence ensued. They were treading on thawing ice here. No turning back now.  
They both seemed to silently agree on the subject. Everything would work out for the best. Their love-hate relationship could survive in close capacity, couldn't it? Only 18 months, but they would both be counting down the days.  
  
"You're not much of a romantic are you, Alec?"  
  
"Sure," he quipped. "I am a die-hard romantic. I do the "French Kiss" Meg Ryan marathon, complete with chocolate truffles, and a box of lotion Kleenex." Max, much to Alec's astonishment, giggled. He shot her his trademark, if not more sincere, smile. "My thing is I just don't do it on days that end in 'y'."  
  
Another muffled giggle. Max let two relieved tears flow down her cheeks before she quickly swiped them away. Unfortunately, it wasn't fast enough for Alec to miss the action. His heart softened a bit watching her haphazardly compose herself. He couldn't resist and tipped her chin up. "Well?" He asked softly.  
  
"Yeah, Alec. I'll marry you."   
  
"Gee, Max. Don't sound so excited," he drawled with a trace of relief.  
  
"Shut up, Alec."  
  
  
*****  
  
....EARLIER....  
  
"Could this life get any worse, O.C.?" Max whined, throwing her face into one of her boo's pillows.   
  
O.C. in her chronic nothing-fazes-me mode, calmly sat down next to a distraught Max sprawled across her bed and began stroking her hair.   
  
"You want somethin' suga'?"   
  
Max, like a petulant child, shook her head and buried herself deeper into her new pillow/handkerchief. Max felt a sudden pang of nostalgia. It felt just like old times. Max would have some problem, collapse over at her girl's place and just 'weep' out the moment. It was back in the time when only Manticore wanted her; there was no White, Familiars, or virus. Not even Logan. Just Max and her sage.  
  
The sage spoke again, "Lay it on me girl."   
  
Something must have hit the girl hard. Max showed up on her doorstep, soaked to the bone. The girl even left the safety of Terminal City. She looked like a drowned...cat. It was hard to tell where the rain rivulets ended and the tears began. O.C. quickly wrapped her wet hair in a towel, for she had just stepped out of the shower. After throwing on some PJ's she floated over to Max's side, sinking into her analytical shrink mode. Some day the girl would have to start paying her.  
  
She reached for her coffee while Max pulled herself from her gulf of one of her favorite pillows. Hmmm, how delicious, a lovely snot and tear mixture. Oh well, O.C. wouldn't deny her 'sister' anything. That pillow had supported her through many a Diamond fits; it only makes sense that it should carry Max through a Logan sulk. She could just wash the cushion later. Only this time, the sage met a conundrum even she couldn't rationalize away.  
  
"Alec asked me to marry him," Max sniffed.  
  
Naturally, O.C. shot out her coffee like it was venom. Even the patient even had to laugh at the picture. It was if the infallible politician had been caught in a toppling lie. On national television. Right before elections. Wiping off the semi-warm mist on her face, she sat up and looked straight at her confidant, waiting for a more vocal reaction.  
  
"You're playing me boo."  
  
"No joke."  
  
"Damn, that's some serious..." she broke off, thinking of any possible scenario where her normally lackadaisical friend would come up with such a weighty question. "Are you sure he was serious, honey?" She stroked her girl's limp arm. Another deep exhale, another weak nod. "But why?"  
  
"It's the only way."  
  
An incredulous O.C. snorted, "For what?"  
  
"Haven't you heard the news?" Off of her friend's blank look, Max continued. "They are finally, after like five years, willing to cope with the fact that we are real, and we aren't going away. But they don't want us so close together. They are splitting us up. Can't you see O.C.? The only way to get out of a couple square mile plot was to agree to their terms. Some will stay in Seattle; the others are assigned to leave.  
  
"Alec and I signed the agreement last week. The lists came in today. Dix, Mole, Josh, Luke, even Alec are staying in Seattle. Me? I get to head towards San Diego. Can you believe that?" Another wave of sobs washed over Max. Original Cindy, always a quick support, lightly threw her arms around Max, coaxing her head into the crook of her shoulder.  
  
"It can't be all that bad boo. You could visit..."  
  
"But it wouldn't be the same? Can't you see? This is my home. After fifteen years on the lamb, trying to find...whatever, this is my HOME." To accent her point, she threw one balled fist onto the bed, causing it to jerk. Her shoulders began to bounce again. Pulling away from O.C., she buried her face in her lap and began to rock back and forth spasmodically.  
  
The sage's face was tense, trying to conjure up some advice. But at times like these, the best advice was the silent type. So she crawled behind her friend's back, gingerly placed herself behind Max, and positioned her legs on either side of her. Next, she pulled Max from her huddled position and spooned her up against her chest. Max had never broken down quite like this before, even with the first virus attack, her boo always seemed to have grasped onto some thin line of hope. This time it seems the wind had caught the thread and blew it away.   
  
A sudden memory of her mother flew into O.C.'s scattered brain. Leaning around a still sobbing sister, she laid her dark hand on a battered brush. Grasping it like a lifeline, she quickly propped her body back and began running it through Max's muddled mane. Somewhere out of the deep musings of O.C.'s mind, a song began to play. Soon she was humming, using the brush's strokes to help keep time. They sat there for a short eternity, crying and combing.   
  
Years later, Max shifted her body. She slipped from the bed, kneeling before her sharp-witted savior. Two sets of brown eyes lifted and locked. There is a certain intimacy in a best friend, more like a soul mate. Deeper than blood, and more satisfying than lovers, was where two bosom buddies met in moments like this.  
  
"So," O.C. began, sliding to the floor next to Max, taking her calloused hands in her manicured ones. "How does Alec poppin' the big M-word, fit into all this? I've heard the sob stories of completely fine women moonin' over a shiftless man because he hasn't popped the question after some serious relationship time. And here the boy ya'll love to hate asks for your hand? You're jumpin' from A to D on me girl, and Original Cindy needs the B and C."  
  
Max chuckled with some real humor, before jumping back to the more serious task at hand. "I already told you this is my home O.C. People gonna hafta drag me out of this place." Original Cindy smiled at the thought, no matter how realistic it may have been. "But I can't start a ruckus, reflecting bad on all my people now can I? And then there is Logan..." she trailed off. Original Cindy had seen the movie too many times to need a synopsis. "I don't know where I sit with him. Before when I said 'It's not like that' it wasn't because I didn't want it to be. Now after so long of not being with him, I don't know where we stand." The sage nodded, back into her guru way. "And now the only way I can stay in Seattle is to be..."she swallowed hard. "Married."   
  
"Okay, O.C.'s got that. But why would Alec pop the question, why not Logan? I could even see you with Joshua before you with you're boy."  
  
Max shook her head, she just felt to old for this drama at the moment. "I have to be married for 18 months. No more, no less. In that time I could prove myself an upstanding citizen who wouldn't cause trouble..." she was cut off back a scoff soon silenced. She continued as if the phrase was never broken. "...And I could get a divorce. From there on out, I could stick around no problem. I think they don't want me here to lead another 'revolt' or something. But even without the cure for the virus, do you honestly think Logan would let me go after 18 months?" At her pointed look, O.C. turned away.  
  
"I don't think so either. There is so much tension between us, and it sure ain't sparks that are flyin'. You know how weak I am; I would hand over myself, not get the divorce, and suffocate. Maybe if I stayed around, and the virus got cured, we could start up again. But right now? It's just to thorny."  
  
"But with our boy," Original Cindy concluded, "You could divorce, and not feel like you cut off his legs." She shot a quick apologetic look to Max for the paralysis remark, but she seemed too preoccupied to have noticed.  
  
Max snapped. "Like that," she retorted in a 'Mexican Mama' accent.  
  
Smiles on both faces soon dissolved into giggles, which pealed into hysterics. When the laughter died down, and eyes were wiped, both women hauled themselves from the floor and strolled to the kitchen, unbelievably lighter.   
  
Silent minutes with suggestive smiles passed quickly. They made themselves a quick and tasteless dinner, which preceded a warm shower for Max. Refreshed, Max stepped into some of her best friends less showy outfits, which seemed to be few and far between.  
  
"O.C., do you own any clothes with don't make you look like a total prostitute?" Max called out.  
  
"What can a girl say? 'I like big butts and I cannot lie...'" Another round of laughter ensued.  
  
*****  
  
It took Max another two hours and twenty-seven minutes exactly to make the executive decision. It never ceased to amaze her how an engine purring between her thighs could clear a troubled head. Making a sharp turn toward the Space Needle, Max blazed down an abandoned street.  
  
*****  
  
Alec was already perched when she reached the top. He must have been sitting there the entire afternoon, his matted hair proof of the unyielding storm a few hours ago. She, lacking her usual feline grace, flopped down within a few feet of Alec, earning herself a semi-grin. After two greeting nods, they fell into a less than comfortable silence which seemed to last an eternity.   
  
As per usual, the large-mouthed male was the first to break the silence...  
  
  
  
  
  
What d'ya think? I won't ask for reviews, I don't deserve them. I can't count the number of awesome stories I read and refused to review due to laziness. My apologies to Kerr, Valjean, Fergus80, and Pari106. Ya'll write some awesome stories and I am a bum. (If anyone reviews any of their stuff, convey my apologies. If you don't even read their stuff, you should be ashamed. They have some of the best DA fanfic I have ever read.)  
  
I probably won't get the next part up until next weekend. Sorry. 


	4. FreeBawling

Disclaimer: ::Sigh:: This is completely unnecessary by now. Stop the Insanity.  
  
A/N: This story takes place in order (so far). For those who I confused, "Go Figure" does happen before "Another Day in Paradise"...thank you.  
  
A/N # 2: I don't have no ownership on the song "Freefalling". I just thought I could incorporate it into the title. Snazzy, ain't it?   
  
  
'Cause I'm Free...FreeBawling  
  
There are certain idioms in the English language that just don't add up. If someone thought twice about them, he would wonder, "Who comes up with this stuff?" Here are some examples: civil war, army intelligence, summer school, smart blond, jumbo shrimp, diet sodas, etc.   
  
Case in point: Which idiot coined the phrase "cold stab of jealousy"?   
  
While She did "stab" Logan in the back, She didn't scamper away and let him slowly bleed to death. No, She was too devious and underhanded to simply leave someone's demise at that.   
  
She walked by you, plaguing complete strangers and loved ones, but only shot you a shy smile before sashaying away. You always told your friends they just suffered from "petty Jealousy" or a little of the "Green Eyed-Monster". But no matter how She may disguise herself as "petty" and "little", she is anything but.   
  
Then, completely out of the blue, instead of sashaying away, She spun and slammed her deceivingly slight body into you. It's like the movies, where a ghost runs through someone's body, and he braces himself for a slam only a professional linebacker could make. The body leans forward, the eyes lock shut, the muscles hum with expectation of a blow. And then... nothing.   
  
At first.  
  
Logan's worst nightmare just took another large leap from the dream world towards real life. It's such a cliche to say that someone's world could crumble with mere words. Then again, Cliches only seem like Cliches until, like Jealousy, they stand right in front of your face, daring you to make the next move.   
  
It's amazing how three simple words could make or break your life. Unfortunately, this conversation didn't lead to the words Logan had been waiting for to float from Max's lips. "I love you." Nope, instead she decided to say, "I'm marrying Alec."   
  
That would be one point for Jealousy.  
  
Back to the case. Yes, Jealousy did stab Logan in his backside. But no, she didn't leave him spurting blood until his eyes closed forever. That's what Logan had always collected from the saying; She hits and runs, and the wound slowly kills you.   
  
But like so many other things in life, Jealousy had one twisted sense of humor.  
  
"I'm marrying Alec."  
  
It would be easier to die. To just give up and let go would be bliss. But Jealousy gives you a false sense of hope, thinking you can win her back, have the Disney version ending.  
  
  
At first.   
  
After receiving the whammy from Max, Logan was pretty sure he'd done the gentlemanly thing. He'd probably supported her unwittingly slanderous decision. He'd probably tried to see her arguments on why she couldn't marry him instead. "What if I forget about the virus? What if I touch your food without knowing Logan? I, we, can't take that chance. I can't lose you now. If I stay married to Alec for a mere year and a half, we'll be free. Sometime soon we will find a cure for the virus. Please Logan, don't..."  
  
It was just a pity he couldn't remember. Things were kind of a blur after that. He knew he somehow managed a slight nod, leaving a distraught Max momentarily satisfied. As long as she didn't think he'd kill himself when she walked out the door, she would leave, and he could think about the disastrous vortex his life decided to coast down on in the last seven minutes.   
  
Max had shut the door behind her, leaving Logan's contemplations to silently resonate off the walls.  
  
"I'm marrying Alec."  
  
May the wonders never cease.  
  
It's was also a pity that she hadn't locked the door behind herself, because Jealousy was even stealthier then a top-ranked transgenic. After several minutes of mental numbness, the questions began to form. He had started second-guessing his life and Max's life. Change twenty minutes of a started confession and traded it with a round of chess, and this entire catastrophe could have been avoided.   
  
But Jealousy shouldn't be described as "cold" though she wasn't hot either. No, she would hit and run. Leaving your soul empty, she would fill in the chasm with coals. The coals would get heavier by the minute and mysteriously start to glow. No, glow is not the right word. They just shine like they were covered with kerosene. And they were warm and ready to be lit.  
  
By the time he began second guessing Alec's life, Jealousy had waltzed through the door, locked herself into Logan's crib, and cooked up a siesta. But she didn't stop there. Oh, no. She couldn't possibly throw a killer party without her buds right? So of course she invited her friends. Let's see, there was Confusion and Validation. Pity came with his long time girlfriend Hopelessness.   
  
But the real showstopper came in fashionably late and white hot in all his thrilling magnetism. Of course with such a crowd-puller personality He didn't need a date; He would steal somebody else's eventually. Rage may have come alone, but he partied the heartiest. And He lasted the longest.  
  
And Logan's eyes be damned if Rage didn't look a lot like Alec.  
  
Logan sat. He just let Jealousy and Rage flirt and chase each other through his capillaries. His muscles screaming in protest, in need of release. After a few hours, when the questions wouldn't stop forming and the rationalizations long stopped flowing, he grabbed the nearest object and hurled it with all his might against the wooden panel wall.   
  
"I'm marrying..."Crack! A thin obsidian-like dust wafted through the air.  
  
That felt unnervingly enjoyable.   
  
Logan was fired up, ready to continue throwing costly item after item. Bring down the entire superficial lifestyle. There was that vase from the Ming dynasty in the bedroom and the Faberge egg next to the sofa. Maybe after a few dozen satisfying crashes and the entire penthouse was covered in dust he would feel like he had done something productive.   
  
Isn't it ironic how stories' downtrodden heroes take blow after blow with an inconceivable grace? The guy just lets everybody walk on him, and the reader knows he is the only one in the entire story in the right. The reader feels so indignant as the story rises to a crest, where the protagonist is finally ready to take everyone's pride and resentment towards himself and shove it into the mud. And right as he gets ready to tell everyone just where to shove it, he gets cut short of his moment of glory.  
  
Amazingly enough, that can apply to real life. And in Logan's case, it did.  
  
In the frantic search for the next object to hurl his bloodshot eyes fell across his first victim.  
  
The Bast. His Bast. Max's Bast. Their Bast.   
  
And since Logan was blazing through an intense philosophical moment, that was just the icing on the cake.  
  
The hot air from the east completely deflated in the sails. Columbus may as well turn around and head back to a European seaport while he still can. And Logan did what Columbus would have done given their situations, what any self-respecting man would have done.   
  
He bawled like a baby.  
  
*****  
  
An hour later, Asha had to make another gun drop-off at Logan's. She flew through the unlocked door with her usual unbounded energy. "Hey Logan," she called, placing her "gift" on the kitchen counter. "You wouldn't happen to mind if I left another crate of guns with you would you?" The kitchen was empty. So was the living room and computer room. She strolled towards the bedroom door. "I promise I'll have them picked up by tomorrow," she continued, propping herself against the doorway. "Maybe I can have Tommy pick them up."   
  
The silence still draped itself over the penthouse like death itself.  
  
"Maybe I could have Jay and Silent Bob pick them up," she teased.  
  
And yet, nothing.  
  
"You still sleeping or something? Come on Logan, don't you know a joke when you hear one? I swear you have lost your sense of humor these days," she drawled. By the time she hit the word "humor", Asha noticed the door was slightly ajar, which would be completely unlike Logan. If there was one thing that man cherished it was his sense of privacy. Slightly piqued, Asha "accidentally brushed" one finger against the door, which fell open several more inches.   
  
This was strange. Once when she turned the knob Logan had swung a pillow at the door in a clear warning to keep out. She peaked her head around the corner. The shades were still drawn and the bed was a mess.   
  
Both the wheelchair and exoskeleton still sat diligently next to his bed, but Logan himself wasn't in sight. "Hmmm," Asha mumbled. She made a quick glance toward her watch. Two-thirty in the afternoon. Things just kept getting weirder and weirder. Even in college when the boy pulled an all-nighter he'd never slept past twelve. "Old age," she cracked quietly. Her head was just rolling itself into its normally upright position when her eyes caught something on the floor.  
  
A foot. A limp foot.  
  
Quick on the alarm, Asha hurtled herself around the bed, nearly fracturing her leg in the process. She fell to the floor next to Logan. After a quick check for any damage, she sighed in relief. He was fine. He'd probably just rolled out of bed in his sleep. She reminded herself to warn him about these constant all-nighters. Virus or no virus, a body had to sleep. Those two would find a cure eventually. A guilty half-smile fell across her lips, he kind of resembled a little boy when he slept. She never would have figured the guy to like the fetal position. Where those tear stains? And how did the meticulous Logan get so much dirt in one place? If he were the janitor of the building, there wouldn't be that much dirt in the entire dwelling.   
  
She sat back on her heels and sighed with half-hearted sympathy. Too bad a woman had to do what a woman had to do.  
  
She walloped Logan. Hard.  
  
"Owww!" He whined. He looked so adorably innocent as his eyes fluttered open to her that the poor girl had to remind herself to breathe. "What was that for?!?"  
  
With an eyebrow lift, she cuffed him again. Twice.  
  
Off of the sounds of protests, Asha bounced back with, "The first one was to check to see if you were still breathing, the second was because you scared the crap out of me. And the third," she strummed off with a matter-of-fact tone. "Was for general principle."   
  
Logan gave a half-hearted glare, while Asha shot him a ditzy smile.  
  
"Let me take a shower," he grumbled.  
  
*****  
  
Jealousy hadn't completely evaporated, but Logan felt he could control Her better now. Asha was animatedly bouncing around the kitchen, whipping herself up a sandwich, and informing Logan on the latest triumphs of the S1W. "...So the guys decided they wanted to jump ship at the last moment, filthy rats, leaving me and Jonah to download the entire mainframe by ourselves. Insane, huh?"  
  
She received no response; Logan was staring at his hands again, seemingly lost in some faraway thought. She stepped towards him. "Logan," she whispered, like he was a child who dazed off while his mom informed him on the importance of cleanliness. His head shot up, and a guilty blush spread rapidly across his face.   
  
"Whatcha thinking?" She asked like a little girl, complete with the constantly moving left foot.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Riiiiiight."  
  
Logan laughed. "That wasn't a half-bad Dr. Evil if I do say so myself."  
  
That earned him a small smile. "Doesn't get you off the hook young man. Don't you know better than to let your mind wander during class?" She was in full teacher mode now. "I could hand out a pop quiz." She dropped the facade, "Seriously, Logan, are you okay."  
  
A deep sigh seemed to penetrate both of them. "Do you think Alec's better than me, Asha?" He seemed to change his train of thought instantly. "Sorry, that is an unfair question. It's just that...I know I am a straight guy, so I have no problem admitting that Alec is a sex magnet. He just seems to attract lots of willing," he faltered but recovered quickly. "And uh, unwilling attention. Could I compete with that?"  
  
Breathe girl. Go for nonchalance. "Sure Logan, you don't exude the same qualities that Alec does, but you do exude lots of awesome characteristics that seem nonexistent in men these days."  
  
He didn't seem to be wholly convinced, but he did seem more hopeful. His shoulders straightened up and he would actually look Asha in the eyes. "Ya think?" Came the soft question.  
  
"Yeah Logan. You're smart, funny, good-looking, caring, willing to put your life on the line for others, noble, and..." She made a sudden, if not faked, glance towards her watch. "...I have got to go. I am just going to check one thing with the Glocks and roll myself out of here. They'll be gone by tomorrow, okay?"  
  
"Yeah," Logan responded absentmindedly, thinking about what she just said. He glanced over Asha, distractedly taking in how what a capable person she was, seemingly ready to handle just about any situation. Just what he needed.  
  
He turned his entire body around, not wanting to miss one fraction of her reaction. "Max and Alec are getting married you know," he began conversationally.  
  
Naturally, Asha dropped the gun as if it were a venomous snake.  
  
  
  
  
Thank you to all the reviews. I don't deserve them. (This is not fake humility here; you should see how serious I am typing this.) If you do review, feel free to flame. If someone compliments me my ego is bound to blow up like Alec's...wait, is that possible? ;)  
  
Next part, next weekend. (Seriously this time.) 


	5. Winter Storms before It Thaws

Disclaimer: So I'm bloody Billy Shakespeare, what are you going to do about it?  
  
A/N: Here's the shocker...there isn't one!  
  
Winter Storms Before it Thaws  
  
Alec tiredly opened the door to his apartment. Exhausted past transgenic stamina, he collapsed on his sofa. The couch, already on its last legs, groaned in protest. Alec absentmindedly patted the fraying cushion next to him. "I feel your pain buddy," he mumbled, thumping his head back against the rotting frame. He sighed for the millionth time that day and let his eyes drift shut. In his very humble abode, he could let the day drift away, taking the tension in his muscles with it.  
  
Today had just been too long. While he had gotten the cigars to Mole, it seemed a million needed favors sprung up in its place. Joshua could use some paint. Dix wanted the one computer part a body had to sell his worthless soul, along with two others, to come by. Luke needed a friend, at this point in time, preferably a female. And this was when he had walked twenty feet into the room. The list was massive by the time he hit fifty, much less when he - gasp - got all the way across the room.   
  
"I need to learn to say no," he muttered. He was too tired to even walk to his own bed. Lacking his usual grace of motion, he despairingly rolled to his stomach, propping his head on a pillow.  
  
Needless to say, Alec was not ready to receive company thirty minutes later. Life wasn't without Her ironies. Practically mauling the door open, a bat straight out of Hell flew into Alec's apartment. Head whipping around hastily, the eyes set upon the usual victim. A foot swung out towards an unconscious and unsuspecting Alec.  
  
Thwack!  
  
Now Alec at this point in time, was too far gone in his REM cycle to sense Max's swoop in. He had just saved a fair princess from an evil dragon, which Alec could swore resembled Logan, in a very scaly way. The damsel with spun-gold hair, enchanting emerald eyes, and legs for days was just about to receive an out-of-your-world kiss. Then she suddenly blew up, her particles floating softly in the air, before they slammed back together to reveal...Max, complete with the unsmiling eyes and face contorted in a recent fit of rage. That was about the time he felt a small jab in his back. If one could consider a "small jab" like the feeling Plymouth Rock just landed on him.  
  
Thwack!  
  
Disoriented and livid, Alec fumbled to his feet and whirled around, trying to place his attacker. By this time, a somewhat unperturbed Max had daintily placed herself in his sleeping spot. Sitting, she glanced up at him blankly, as if she hadn't just given him a bruise the size of Philly. Steaming he hollered, "What in the name of Sir Isaac Newton was that for?!?" And while Alec's voice might be hoarse tomorrow, she didn't even flinch. He was too pissed to sleep now and Max had already taken up the best cushion on the couch anyway. With a martyr's groan of frustration and pain, he strode into the bathroom and slammed the door with a satisfying CRACK!  
  
Twenty minutes later and feeling a smidgen better, the beast emerged from the bathroom. Not even bothering to look up, he high-tailed it into his room, muttering offensive and foul things about women in general. When a chair had unfortunately set itself in his path, he plowed through it like an express train. He later emerged into the main room, shooting Max a look that would pulverize a lesser person. Much to his satisfaction, she did stop doing that little leg kick thing women do, the one where one leg is crossed over the other and bounces around like it has Attention Deficit Disorder.   
  
He crossed the room and headed for the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee. Effectively acting like he was ignoring her while monitoring her every movement in his peripheral vision, he noticed she looked a lot less confident than when he had headed into the shower. Good, she should be nervous. Any women should be nervous when she had just kicked her gallant fiancee out of what had been a beautiful slumber. Especially when he was a transgenic lacking the shark DNA who hadn't had any decent sleep in the last 48 hours.   
  
Against his instincts, Alec opened the conversation on a somewhat mild note. "Did you ever knock on the doors that belonged to the men in your life?"  
  
A disconcerted and edgy Max was not appeased. "We have to talk." She began flatly.   
  
Alec snorted derisively. "About what? Breaking into my apartment? Kicking me out of a deserved sleep?" He ranted for a few minutes, with each question receiving a slam on some object, whether it was a drawer being shut or a spoon or mug clattering against the countertop. For some reason, whether lack of sleep or otherwise, Alec couldn't play the "happy-go-lucky sociopath" today. He was on the edge, and Max was too. "Acting like nothing is going on...?" He cut himself off, not wanting to know where that trail of thought was running off to.   
  
By this time, Max had stood up and crossed the room. By the time Alec had started his final question, Max had placed a rigid hand on his clenching arm. He, not surprisingly, jumped back like he had been bitten. Eyes wide in surprise, he took a quick step back.  
  
"I talked to Logan." She began painfully.  
  
"And?" A suddenly more supportive Alec asked.  
  
"And nothing!" She moaned. "He didn't do anything. He just sat there, looking past me like I didn't exist! He did this little pathetic nod thing! What is that anyway?!?" Distraught, she slammed her arms and head down on the counter, not sure whether to weep or bite someone's fingers off.  
  
Alec was eerily silent. There is that panic that seems to come to men in relationships. The kind of panic that hits when a man is about to walk out the door and head out for a night on the town and his wife asks, "What earrings should I where? The red one's with the white sparkles or the black and blue?" Now this is where the man knows his is officially in the infamous "Screwed, Blued, and Tattooed" phase. Single men would say that the husband has a fifty/fifty chance of choosing the correct pair. The married or dating man understands that this hypothesis, though logical, is scientifically impossible. Whatever pair of earrings he chooses the wife will automatically choose the other. And he knows that he will be as bloody as the red earrings with white sparkles when his wife gets done with him for choosing the black and blue pair. Or he will be "black and blue" when choosing the red ones. Can one say "a rock and a hard place"?  
  
A similar, though more acute panic struck Alec at that precise moment. But Alec, though a mere man, was a good friend. And since he was a good friend he realized that what he had to do to make Max feel better would make him both red AND black and blue. But a good soldier never went into battle without a logical plan thought out. He had two possibilities: Fight or Flight?  
  
He loosely tossed his arm over Max's sunken shoulders. And after a couple of sarcastic pats, he whispered into her ear, "Don't worry Maxie-poo, I am sure Logan-boy is upset. In fact," he dodged his head around the corner, glancing at the clock. "I am sure at this exact moment, he is bawling his computerized heart out, into a very soft and willing shoulder...donated by Asha." He finished cryptically.   
  
Wham!  
  
Then again, plan B never was a bad thing. It was too late now though; the flight ideal had passed him by, leaving him at the mercy of a very enraged, very capable Max. Being a multi-tasking transgenic, he was able to pick himself off the floor, defend his several necessary parts from the next blows, berate himself for being such a nice fiancee and ideal punching bag, all the while ignoring the back of his mind that told him to grab Max's arm, throw her out of the apartment and go back to the original inspiration of sweet slumber.  
  
Meanwhile Max, perfectly incensed, screamed several choice phrases after Alec's virgin ears. Her erratic punches were actually well aimed, and of course well packed. And after being road kill against his own wall for several shots, Alec felt his own temper begin to flare. He may play the egocentric all the time, but it was only a cover for all the faults he saw through Max's eyes. Everyone in Terminal City seemed to hold in some esteem, even though the two-legged variety seemed to place him a little higher on a pedestal than the three-legged type. He never let it go to his head though, taking care of those who needed the help and let those help who needed to find their own niche. He and Joshua had even developed a close friendship, a brotherhood of sorts, DNA aside.  
  
But even after five years, alone in his bathroom, after he had dried off and dressed, wiping the condensation off the mirror, he'd still see the blood on his hands, the detached emotion framing his pupils.  
Rachel's confession still ricocheted of his memories, complete with guileless eyes and an easily pleased smile. Six months in Psy. Obs. were relived almost daily. And just when he paused the near masochistic cycle, the last thing he needed was someone relighting the fire in his own self-hatred. Max was always unknowingly ready to push play.  
  
Just like in the cage fight, he'd had enough. Violently twisting around, he backhanded Max across the face. The motion caught her off guard and her head swung back while taking in the harsh impact. Alec's eyes cleared just as Max's welled up. Alec felt the bile rise in his throat. He'd hurt Max. He'd hurt her just when she needed him the most, never mind that the situation had been in the reverse placement several times and he had been the one kicked down. Now was not the time to settle any type of scores. The pain might be more emotional than physical, but a red welt hastily covered her cheek.   
  
Max just stared at him. Her eyes would have been perfectly blank if it wasn't for the tears that streamed unhidden down her cheeks. Alec just gaped back, shocked at his own reaction. After several moments of silence he stepped forward hesitantly, purposely not noticing her inching back at his larger steps.   
  
Max was cornered against the wall, part of her shirking at his whatever his next movement would be. She deserved the slap; she was too smart to deny that. She had been asking for it for sometime, constantly putting him down for things that she knew he couldn't control. It didn't help that he'd been an easy target. Like some dysfunctional sacrificial lamb, he had gone to her alter several a time, never bleating out that his self-image had been debased in any sort of way. Except for his eyes. His eyes followed her everywhere some days. Some days she could ignore their probing, trying to see if she was going to be all right. It was just too much sometimes, his nonchalant way of keeping her safe. If he'd just brag about how good he was to her once in a while, she could push him off easier. It was how it never came back to him. He seemed to serve her because he genuinely wanted to help, not because he owed her anything. She owed him. After working their way from enemies to associates to friendship to some sort of deranged pseudo-confidants, she'd no right to treat him the way she did.   
  
Alec watched Max try to shrink into the decaying wallpaper, his personal hatred starting up again. Despite all her bellyaching against him, she had always seemed to value their friendship. Sure, she said some snide remarks, but his deranged sense of humor asked for it sometimes. She'd busted him out of jail several times, and even though she would yell at him all the way into the sunset, he could tell it was a sheer cover for her worry over him. And after five years of a growing love-hate friendship, he'd hurt her.   
  
He knew what it meant to be slapped by someone you cared about, no matter how hard they'd both tried to deny it.  
  
Cautiously, his fingers lightly traced the swelling cheek. Shocked out of her contemplations, Max slammed herself back against the wall. The fingers snapped back. Alec's wounded eyes were soon covered by concern. When she seemed a bit calmer, he reached for her cheek again, but she only shied away. Besides the first battle between them in the alley, and the night after a particularly bad Logan-spell, they didn't do intimate contact. Theirs wasn't a touchy-feely relationship, unless they were being swallowed by a severe moment of weakness and needed a lifeline.  
  
After a long moment and they had both conveyed their apologies silently, they decided to step out of the corner they were trapped in. Unfortunately, it was in the same direction. After two bumped heads, a quick catch, and a couple of nervous giggles, they both straightened. Max was still smiling. Always a good sign.  
  
Alec took a lighter approach and ran with it, "Do you think we will stop bumping heads after we're married?"  
  
Max smiled. "Not a snowball's chance in Hell," she quipped.  
  
Alec let out a real laugh this time, soon joined by Max. When the laughter died down, they were still standing close. Too close.   
  
"Well," Max joked. "That was fun, let's never do that again sometime."  
  
"Never," Alec repeated softly.   
  
Unnerved by his eyes, she strode out the door, leaving Alec to treacherous thoughts.   
  
*****  
  
Logan stopped by Terminal City the next day. Joshua greeted him with his usual enthusiasm: a large hug and several excited phrases breathed in poor Logan's face, most of them indecipherable due to close range and bad breath. After several minutes of tail wagging conversation, there was a quick change in subject. "So where is Max anyway, Joshua?" Logan asked.  
  
"Max and Alec making plans for the..." Joshua stopped suddenly, not wanting to give away his friends.  
  
"Wedding?" Logan finished.  
  
Joshua was obviously relieved. "Max..."  
  
"Yeah, she told me."  
  
"Only 18 months Logan."  
  
"Yeah, I know."  
  
Suddenly uncomfortable, Josh decided to fork Logan over to Max. He quickly swept him into a secluded conference room area, where Max and Alec seemed to be bent over a serious planning session. Alec noticed him first; Max had her back to Logan. Alec glanced up, shooting him an apologetic smile. Barely heartened and still burning with jealousy, he shot Alec a look, which roughly translated to "be careful," or "just treat her right." Alec imperceptibly nodded, to all three counts.  
  
Noticing his short attention span had been lost yet again, she glared at Alec. "Alec," she warned. "If I turn around and see some dirty blonde bimbo with a big chest, I swear to the Blue Lady that I'll smack your head so hard you'll be relearning to tie your shoes."  
  
Alec leveled his gaze back on Max. "One," he started, numbering off on his fingers. "I don't prefer dirty blondes; it's either blonde or brunette, no middle for me. Two, there's more to a girl than a chest...there are still eyes to worry about, butt size and shape, legs, and of course..." he trailed of suggestively. "...Necks." He quipped, dodging a playful slap. "What did you think I was going to say? YOU have the dirty mind between two of us. I'm not sure if I'm safe alone with you." He picked up where he left off. "Third, what makes you think I have to do something so demeaning as tying my own shoes when there are so many fine women around here to do it for me? And finally," his smirk only widened further, if it was possible. "The dirty blond behind you is..." he inserted a tiny drum roll. "Logan."  
  
Okay so he didn't take the double meaning on "be careful" so seriously. Could a body blame him?  
  
Max predictably whirled around, almost launching herself out of her chair in the process. "Careful Maxie, soon you'll be falling for the guy," she heard behind her. Logan glared at the perp while Max mumbled for him to shut up.   
  
Logan strove to make it a light "Wedding plans?" But it didn't seem as light as Alec's "bumping heads" comment.   
  
"Yup. Well, actually, we finished those up quite a while ago. Now we're just planning out everybody moving out, who's going where, preparation for the real world, the usual. A lot of us are just afraid of people's reactions, especially the transhumans. But amazingly enough, they have actually been pretty accepting, even after only five years." She finished.   
  
She suddenly felt nervous. Logan had obviously spotted the slight swelling on her cheek, sending several accusatory looks in Alec's direction. Even after several hours, it hadn't quite died down. But Alec had though; it was obvious that he would never hit her like that again. Just to look at him, every time he looked at her he tensed up at the bruise. An apologetic look always poured out of him, followed by Max's small smile of comfort.  
  
"Yeah," Alec agreed. "Who needs to worry about wedding plans? We will probably just wear jeans and sign the papers anyway. In fact," he chuckled. "I was just wondering if we should just pick up divorce paper while we were at the justice's office. Save a trip."  
  
Off of Max's glare, Alec decided he'd had enough fun by her standards. "Leaving," he said, dragging Josh out the door with him. Who needs another angst session?  
  
*****  
  
Alec was cleaning out the barrel of shotgun a couple hours later, when he suddenly glanced to the dog next to him. "Hey, Picasso," he called. "Original Cindy was telling me once how Max could barely boil water, much less make Mac and Cheese with little dogs." Joshua smiled at the mention of his personal specialty. "So, not to be the stereotypical male, but I don't want to have to cook every night for the next 18 months. I mean, I can cook for myself, but two people? I could go into shock. So I am asking you what is my incentive for marrying Max? How am I going to benefit?"  
  
Joshua set down his brush, pondering the question. After a pregnant silence he said. "Maybe Max kiss better than cook."  
  
After sharing a hearty laugh, Alec went to give the shotgun to Mole. Joshua gazed after him.   
  
He had only been half joking.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N #2: Change of plans. The line, "I kiss better than I cook," ain't mine. I stole it off a kitchen magnet. Pathetic or what? 


	6. Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

Disclaimer: If anyone reviews this, could you please tell me if a disclaimer is a necessity at this point? I forgot if I read it was in the FanFiction.net contract.  
  
  
  
Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire  
  
"...By the powers invested in me, as justice of the state of Washington I now pronounce you man and wife." The justice seemed to let the dramatic pause linger a little too long by Max and Alec's standards. With a wry smile he said, "You may kiss the bride."  
  
Logan's eyes bugged out to the explosion point while Cindy's "cough" was smothered into her hand. Both Max and Alec froze, sheer terror evidently crossing their faces.   
  
Uh oh.   
  
For some reason, probably due to that same ability causing mothers to go through more than one labor, they had pushed this to the back of their minds, almost completely forgetting about the chore. Slowly, as if the air between them was as thick as molasses, they struggled to turn and face each other.   
  
They had to convince the fearful public, more importantly the trigger-happy authorities, that they were the happy transgenic couple.  
  
Uh oh.  
  
Alec's cover, though quick, was terribly lame, "Uh no thanks judge, you see," he snuffed dramatically, "I have got this bad cold and..." he never finished. He was cut short by two soft hands throwing his face into a chokehold-like vice.   
  
Plus a set of warm, though unwilling, lips.  
  
Two muffled screams seemed to echo across Post-Pulse Seattle, startling two petrified transgenics out of the nightmare.  
  
*****  
  
"...by the powers invested in me, as justice of the state of Washington I now pronounce you man and wife." The two horrified transgenics swallowed convulsively. "You may kiss the bride," he finished simply.  
  
Original Cindy must be given credit for muffling her "cough" into her handkerchief. Alec, on the other hand, couldn't. "No thanks your royal justiceness," he chuckled. "Max would as soon kiss me as..." he was cut off...   
  
...by a sharp 3-inch heel pummeling his foot. "Oww!!" he yelped. He whirled on his assailant. "What was that for?" Max, predictably, shot him a blank smile just before passing O.C. a sly one. Her friend just raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and "coughed" again in response. Wheeling her head back to the new - heaven help her - husband, she glimpsed the look of irony on Alec's face just before he smothered it with something resembling his cocky self.   
  
The wedding had been simple: a judge, a maid of honor, and best man were the only one in attendance. O.C., for all her gripes about the whole idea of marriage and monogamy, seemed more than willing to be her boo's maid of honor. And a couple of surreptitious glances from Max said that for all the talk, O.C.'s more feminine side had won out judging by the amount of times she "sneezed". The "sneezes" were convincing, but Max didn't believe the "allergies" masquerade. And although Joshua was Alec's first choice of best man, Sketchy was more than happy to replace him. Joshua still had slight misgivings about being out in so much public. After years confined to the insurmountable walls of Manticore, and the cozy though filthy gutters of Terminal City, too much open space at one time easily overwhelmed Josh.   
  
Amazingly enough, Logan wasn't in attendance. He claimed a massive computer virus had taken the majority of his contact list and due to the never-ending crime supply of Seattle, he needed to reestablish his associates immediately, as in yesterday. Max seemed willing to coerce herself into trusting the blatant lie but the facade didn't fool Alec. At this point in time he was probably working down another Pre-Pulse chardonnay. The sucker might have even worked himself into drinking straight from the bottle. It was already two o'clock. He scrunched up his face, conjuring up a mental image of Logan smashed to the point of not being able to...move his wheelchair, eyes drooping, unintelligible sputterings slipping out about the curveballs of fate. And yet, he was still holding a flute lazily brimming with liquid white-collar "fire". A smirk raced across his face then, not quite clearing his eyes. It sure was a pity. Logan was a good man despite the fact he was so frustrating he could get the Pope to cuss. On Sunday. At mass. During Lent. But he did know what he wanted to do in life, which was somewhat admirable.   
  
No matter how it would destroy his "it's not like that" girlfriend.   
  
Max's surprisingly gentle elbow-jab snapped him out of the reverie. "Let's go Romeo," she said. They made a semi-rush down the "aisle", which consisted of turning around walking approximately 12 feet until they hit the door, taking a left, going down seven spotless stairs, proceeding out the door, and walking another 117 feet to his car. Give or take. God had better know why all these nameless and unimportant details stuck out in the newly married man's mind, because Alec sure didn't. Must be part of a new marriage, the burden of commitment sharpening the senses, even if the whole deal was a farce. It was the inconsequential things that stuck out that day: the rare smell of real leather in the office's chairs, the delicate scuffle in signing a marriage contract, the sunlight filtering through the window that made every piece of dust flush with color, the way O.C. had eyed him shadily throughout the hurried ceremony, the way the simple dress draped over Max's body in a modest though appealing fashion, the new - though guarded as always, somewhat entrusting - radiance bouncing in her eyes when she looked at him.   
  
Like she was doing right now.  
  
Alec undetectably tripped in surprise, quickly unlocking Max's car door and opening it with a cocky show of gallantry. He dramatically raised his hand to escort her in. Alec nearly tripped again when Max gracefully accepted, sliding her palm in his. A quick eyebrow quirk from the bride, an oh-so-charming grin the groom, and a quick flick on the ignition put the "honeymooners" on the road.   
  
"Where is the shindig anyway?" Alec asked.  
  
"Original Cindy said it was back at T.C. Just to warn you, Normal might come after all." She replied.   
  
"Really?" he drawled. "Hmm."  
  
Max tried to smother a wicked grin. "Yes, I am sure he just wants to wish his 'golden boy' the best of luck," heavy emphasis on 'golden'. "But I am sure that after a couple of beers it won't take much to convince him how you will be on the market, perfectly fine, in approximately 17 months, 3 weeks, 6 days, 23 hours and 17 minutes."  
  
After glaring at her for her remark, he retorted, "Hmpf. Normal merely sees me as a valued employee, and a remarkable cage-fighter. If you suffer from the green-eyed monster now Maxie, our marriage won't last those 17 months, 3 weeks, 6 days, 23 hours, and 17 minutes."  
  
Max chuckled and laid her head back against the rest. "16 minutes now," she mumbled.  
  
Another "hmpf' escaped Alec. "I am surprised you weren't counting the seconds anyway."  
  
"32 seconds," she quipped without missing a beat.  
  
"That's disgusting Max."  
  
*****  
  
The 'shin-dig' as Alec lovingly phrased it, was more a celebration of freedom and the fact that Max would get to stay with her closest friends as opposed to any real 'reception'. Max and Alec stopped by his apartment, now theirs, because she had crammed all her stuff into it over the last week. It was funny how the public didn't seem to care about the fact that the two obviously didn't love each other, just so long as they stayed under the same roof. Probably so they could keep better tabs on them. After a quick change of clothes, they headed to the main hall, where the party seemed to be in full swing.   
  
Several minutes later, Sketchy was regaled the couple with his knowledge of useless statistics. "And 60% of newlyweds do not have sex on their wedding night," he boasted, proud to know something Alec didn't.  
  
"That's fascinating Sketch," Alec replied, glancing over to Max. He gave her a quick grin and rolled his eyes. Sketchy was speeding down the highway of intoxication. "Crash and burn in two hours," he whispered.  
  
"You give him that long?" She asked, receiving a smile.  
  
O.C. quickly swiped Max from her groom without apologies and dragged her to a corner to talk about...whatever girls talk about.  
  
"Let me see the ring again," O.C. issued the command, not to be disobeyed. Max almost shyly raised her hand, letting her best friend speculate over it for the millionth time. O.C. had seen it a week before, when Max hauled her to the quaint little jewelry shop where she and Alec had picked it out.   
  
The nerves had obviously gotten to her friend. When she had met Max almost 8 years ago, a body had to force the girl to shave her legs. Behold the wonders of estrogen. After a few years of feminine training, O.C. had gotten the girl to shave her legs, comb her hair, and actually wear girls clothes. But Max was too butch to be fussing over a wedding ring that the man-whore would pass off too some bimbo after a one-night stand induced by several heavy rounds of scotch. When she delivered her verdict on the subject, Max had visibly brightened.   
  
It was only 18 months with the Golden-Boy, for cryin' out loud. If Max got enraged enough, she would just kill him. No, the girl was nervous about something else. She was trying to hide it away. And judging by the way Alec held himself during the ceremony; he felt the vibes too. The Jedi Master glanced between the Padwans. Interesting.  
  
By the time O.C. had changed her thoughts tracks, Mony had joined the duo. She was a beautiful girl, tall, with long legs, full curves, and too-die-for hair. Max eyed her curiously. Mony was bright, charming, and one of the many mad for Alec. She was a sweetheart though, and didn't begrudge Max anything in her new marriage. She kind of reminded Max of Rachel must have been like, always willing to get along with others. Max always felt dumpy compared to the girl, like Mony was some glowing princess and Max was the mere sullen maid. She was fair where Max was coarse. Mony was unbelievably lithe and graceful, full of feminine charm and manicured nails; Max had abrasive edges, more of a hoyden at heart, and still struggled to brush her hair sometimes.  
  
She dared a glance across the room to the man in question. He had always noticed Mony, eyed her appreciatively on occasion, but never went any further than that. Or any of the girls recently. Even though he'd agreed to marry Max out of pity, they had both decided on a definite, business-like partnership. He could date whom he wanted, and so could she. Why didn't he try for Mony? She would be perfect for him. Max lifted her eyebrows speculatively, shrugged her shoulders, and shifted her thoughts back to the woman in question.  
  
"So Max," Mony continued mockingly. "I won't sabotage your marriage over the next year and a half on one condition." Her eyes glimmered with suppressed laughter.  
  
"And what's that?" Max asked.  
  
"You have the inside angle, and with it comes a perilous mission. You have to train Alec. You know, teach him some new tricks."  
  
Max practically choked on her laughter. "New tricks? What, you want Alec housebroken within 18 months? You had better pay a handsome fee."  
  
Mony giggled innocently. "Well, not completely housebroken." She decided. "You can't completely tame the jungle cat," she continued suggestively. "Not that you would want to anyway."  
  
Max let her laughter ring out loudly this time. She threw her arm around the Venus. "I'll see what I can do, but I make no promises. And I have one condition."  
  
"What's that?" her conspirator asked.  
  
"If you are satisfied," she drawled evocatively. "I get to name the first baby."  
  
Laughing again, they shook hands in a business-like manner, sealing the deal.  
  
When Mony swayed off, running to catch up with Gem, Original Cindy leaned towards Max. "What a cutie!" she commented lightly, gauging Max's reaction.  
  
"I know. I always thought she was more of Alec's type as opposed..."  
  
"...opposed to whom?"  
  
"Nobody."  
  
Original Cindy smiled knowingly. She knew Mony better than Max did; she had watched her carefully over the past couple of years. The girl was obviously keen on Alec, and even tried to catch had his attention for awhile. It was similar to one time this girl Nancy, had tried to catch Diamond's eye. O.C. and Diamond hadn't been an item at that time, they still "hated" each other back then. Nancy was just Diamond's type, beautiful and lean, but the tension wasn't between her and Diamond, the tension was on O.C.'s side. Nancy eventually let the then unsuspecting O.C. try her like at finding the "Diamond" in the rough.   
  
Knowingly or not, Max had just witnessed a contestant bow out of a race she had no chance of winning. She had paid her respect to who she felt, with her feminine intuition, would be the eventual winner.  
  
Judging by the way that she gazed at Dix, Mony wasn't too heartbroken anyway.  
  
"Well, well," a voice simpered behind them. "Look what the cat dragged in."  
  
Both the sage and the apprentice sighed simultaneously, exchanging rueful smiles. On the other end of the transgenic beauty scale sat the seductive and petty Minette. She exuded sexuality, exotic and rich, and was never afraid to use her body to her advantage. Basically, she was a tramp. While Mony was loving and open, Minette was cold and spiteful. She hated Max. And since the girl had the nerve to marry the object of her insipid affection, the flames were only stoked higher. Her eyes dismissing Max with a glance, she focused her attention on O.C. "Hey," she said coolly.  
  
"Hello," O.C. responded. Why had the girl even bothered to come over? A quick survey of the room gave her all the answers. Alec was coming this way, a smile forming across his face.   
  
"Hey Max," he whispered grabbing her arm. "Joshua, Luke, Mole, and Dix made a wedding cake. I refuse to be sick alone. We can both hold each other's hair back over the toilet later."   
  
Minette obviously, was enraged. She had not drifted all the way across the room, dodging appreciative eyes and drunken hands to be blown off for the...wife. The word tasted bitter on her tongue. Oh well, she'd get him later. It wouldn't take long for him to wander from an unappreciative spouse.  
  
Cindy watched the heifer stride off, her backside switching disgustingly. The girl was on the warpath.   
  
Her eyes glazed back over to the new couple, straying longer over Alec. As far as she was concerned, Minette was screwed over either way. She didn't get to sage status without keeping her eyes peeled. Alec had unintentionally glanced Max's way too many times. Particularly when she had been laughing with Mony.  
  
It wouldn't take Alec much longer to lose the claim on his own heart.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Thank you for your reviews. You guys made my day! 


	7. Back in the Saddle

Disclaimer: No one reads this. Everyone knows I don't own this. What's the point? Don't own the term "Mog" either.  
  
A/N: No Purchase Necessary.  
  
Back in the Saddle  
  
Normal perused the package slips on his clipboard while tossing packages to the reprobates who had the nerve to try and slip past his radar. "Bip," he scolded a carrot-top irritant. "Sector five." Off of the younger man's grimace he began another lecture. "Listen potato-head," he started.  
  
"You call me Normal?" Sketchy swung around a corner.  
  
"Not you "Potato-Head", this other..." Normal shoved an annoyed finger behind him. With a quick about-face, he started to bawl out...nobody. The punk had already left. Normal's characteristic frown deepened. Normal turned back around, confronting with Sketchy's usual ignorantly vacant expression. Agitated, he chucked the employee with his clipboard. Astonishingly enough, Sketchy didn't protest or begin to preach against the use of employer-on-employee violence in the work place. In fact, the moron had the impertinence to smile at something behind his boss. Unsurprisingly, Normal rolled his eyes.   
  
"I don't care how 'hot' she is, Degenerate. The last thing I need is another first-rate pair of legs who with efficient quickness adopts the Jam Pony 'ideal' of good-for-nothing laziness. We're not hiring." Normal spat.  
  
"Now that's not very nice, Normal," a voice, too deep to be female, sounded behind him. Normal wheeled around, coming face-to-face with his 'Golden-Boy'. Alec casually smiled at his former boss.   
  
"I came back here looking for another chance at a job, but," he shrugged his shoulders offhandedly, glancing at a very impressive female employee. She had just finished a "run" and mysteriously enough, had come looking for another without a thirty-minute break in between as per usual. A still dumbfounded Normal shoved off another package mumbling something about sector four. The lass sneaked another summarizing glance before winking and sliding off. Alec continued as if he hadn't been pleasurably interrupted. "But, seeing how you already seem to have a full house, maybe you could give me a recommendation for my next job. What would you suggest for a genetically empowered being such as myself? Pizza delivery or packing groceries?" he finished.   
  
The mental countdown began. Four, three, t...  
  
"Nonsense!" Normal interjected. "I couldn't leave my rock star out in the rain now could I?" He swiftly punched Alec's upper arm. "Grab yourself a package, get yourself re-acclimated."   
  
Sketch smiled at his boy. "Good to have you back, man. Normal was starting to act like a PMS-ing woman without her chocolate." He and Alec laughed when Normal suddenly glared at the offender. "Leaving," Sketchy said.  
  
"Forgetting something?" Normal called out. He carefully chose one of the heavier, more durable packages and threw it right into Sketchy's chest. At the victim's small yelp of shocked pain, Normal allowed himself a small smile.  
  
"Of the sadistic sort recently Normal?" Alec quipped with his usual devil-may-care grin. He leaned casually against the counter, letting his frame catch the eye of a petite and appreciative Asian girl across at her locker. He winked; she blushed and shot him a coy smile. A contented smile slipped out of Alec. It was good to be back in the saddle again.   
  
He turned his attention back to his less-deserving boss. It was still just a little unnerving that Normal hadn't even taken a full three seconds before rolling out the welcome mat. An almost delicate shudder raced through Alec. Maybe Max was on to something.  
  
"Only when goaded beyond a saint's standards. A bag of ice and he'll be fine," his boss mumbled into a stack of illegible slips. A sudden thought struck Normal. Leaning over the caged-in counter past Alec, he bellowed out, "And where in the name of the "Electric Prunes" is Max?!?"  
  
"Here Normal," a feminine voice called out. Alec felt a whoosh of air slip past him before Max languidly slumped against the counter. The boy was shocked. If his wife leaned over a mere two-inches, they'd be practically snuggling. Alec's body involuntarily opened up at the thought. Dipping his head slightly, he raised an eyebrow at Max. Opening her own body faintly, she challenged him with an eyebrow raise of her own.  
  
Normal fixed his attention on a less-deserving Max. "Sometimes to get a good employee back on the lists I have to take in another shiftless troublemaker such as yourself." Max nodded, acknowledging the fact that Alec will always be on the higher pedestal in the eyes of the boss. What a pity. It wasn't like she was clamoring for the spot anyway. Alec on the other hand, seemed to soak up the spotlight. Even when he looked down at her just then, he eyes were still brimming with some indefinable light. Probably a "cloaked" gloating over the fact that he wasn't going to need to beg for his job. He just knew she would need to do a lot of begging to get back into Normal's...less dark graces. Arrogant bastard.  
  
"But be warned Missy-Miss," he continued in a nagging fashion. "I don't care if you are in need of a heart-transplant, leading a transgenic cause, or running for the presidency of Mars. Once your term in the Elliptical Office is through, you have no job here." He wagged a bony finger at her. "Twice is my limit. If you leave again, don't bother coming back."  
  
Max was unimpressed. She threw up one hand quickly, "Just pass me a package Normal." With a last threatening glance, "Sector two," he drawled. Max snatched the package ready to make a speedy and graceful exit.   
  
Tough luck then, that her shoe got caught in her oversized jeans at that precise moment. Time was suddenly sluggish. A small unsoldier-like squeak escaped Max's lips. The package was suspended in the air before Max haphazardly collapsed it against her chest, ready to cocoon its fall. Alec on the other hand, almost casually enveloped Max. After an eternal half-second, Max realized she wasn't sprawled out on the cold hard cement. She was actually engulfed in a really warm and stiff leather jacket.   
  
Next to a really warm and firm body.  
  
Who undeniably had his face buried in her hair.  
  
Before Max allowed her senses fully absorb his warmth, or his own personal "Alec smell" - which seemed completely devoid of any cologne, and had an homey, almost "Tide"ish scent, by the way - she flew out of her cushion and fully supported herself on her own two feet. Quickly wiping the "deer in the headlights" look off her face, she mumbled a sharp "shut up" and stalked off to find Original Cindy.   
  
Faking indifference Alec didn't bother glancing at his boss. He shifted his eyes back to elfin Asian angel, who resembled melted butter after seeing his gallant catch. Fully turning his body to her, still leaning against the counter some rare GQ model, he beamed a million-watt smile for her. Who knew butter could evaporate? Pushing the nagging feeling to the back of his mind that Max had slightly leaned into him after the catch, he received a package from Normal. Still avoiding a glance at Normal, Alec advanced towards the evaporating butter, who seemed more than happy for a moment of his attention.   
  
Some wires must have been crossed wrong. Here Max was just learning to stand the sight of him, while his boss was effectively sporting a nice shade of envious green over an Asian employee.  
  
Go figure.  
  
*****  
  
Crash was filled with her usual patrons. The local riff-raff, ready to piddle their hard-earned cash on a few drinks and pool games. The desperate guys on the prowl for Miss Tonight. There were always those under-aged kids, trying to look like they were older and failing miserably. It wasn't like they actually checked I.D.'s anymore; people just wanted to sell their liquor.  
  
Then of course, there was the Jam Pony crew. Jam Pony seemed to be Crash's main source of revenue. Normal ride you hard today? Head to Crash. Too many runs to practically out-of-state sectors? See you at Crash. Faked sick today? Hey, you're buying at Crash. If the money was available, they could run a commercial.  
  
Of course in the midst of it all was Jam Pony's royal court. King Alec, Queen Max, their counselor, Original Cindy, and the court jester, Sketchy. Alec grabbed another scotch off the bar and headed for the inner-sanctum. Original Cindy and Max were talking animatedly about the importance of clean nails in the work place. Okay, so O.C. was doing the talking, Max was listening. Sketchy on the other hand, was modeling the effects of too many beers too early in the evening, already drooping off into Lala Land.  
  
Alec smoothly slid into the seat next Max. He carelessly flung an arm around her shoulder. "Max, cupcake. No drinks tonight? Dang, and here I was thinking if I got you drunk enough..." he trailed off, glancing effectively at Sketchy, who drunkenly snickered. Max, predictably, flung his arm off her shoulder with unmasked disgust and scooted closer to O.C., who was eyeing him questioningly. Alec was going to have to talk to O.C. about that, it was getting rather unnerving.  
  
So, to make a long story short, the royal court was avidly discussing several topics of dire importance when "She" walked in. Clad in the usual attire, something so small and tight-fitting that Britney Spears would be ashamed to be caught in it, you could almost hear the leather skirt "squeak" as "She" strutted across Crash. An amazing amount of beer breath escaped at once, with all the male jaws on the floor.   
  
"Yo girl," Cindy started. "Who invited 'Christina I-will-laya'?" Max muffled a snicker in her extra-large shirtsleeve.   
  
Minette strutted over to Alec's side. "Hey," she simpered. Alec gave her a quick once-over before turning his attention back to his drink. Minette obviously overlooked the facade of disinterest. Alec's jaw might not have dropped like every other cat's had in the joint, but his eyes had obviously flickered with something. He might throw up his mask mighty quick, but Minette had caught the sheen of desire illuminating in his eyes.   
  
*****  
  
Ever since the siege had started four years ago, Alec had caught her eye. He wasn't like the other soldiers in Terminal City. He had more to offer, mostly because he wanted more. And Alec wasn't the kind to just take everything; he would give everything in return. And "Everything" was just what Minette wanted. Max was a fool to let a man like Alec slip by. Minette had made it a special point not to copy her mistake.   
  
Alec may have been a genetically spliced super soldier, but he was still 93% human. Cat DNA didn't take away the need for comfort, an encouraging word once in a while. Max wasn't the kind of girl to give it too him; she was too swept up with that humanoid Logan. And a girl had to be smart, on the sly to get what she craved in this world.   
  
But for all their fighting, Max and Alec were just too close. Even when the heifer had bawled out the man time and time again, he served her with a dogged devotion, content to slip in the background. Max was propelled, even if inadequately, into the limelight. She was the "leader" of transgenics. Puh-leeze. The girl couldn't tie her own dang shoes, figuratively speaking, without Alec's help. Max shouldn't have been in the spotlight, Alec should have. With Minette at his side, of course.  
  
Max would tear the chap down; Minette greedily picked him up, counting down the days until he was hers. She had caught his eye even then. Flirtations and subtle innuendos slipped between the two at almost every "chance" meeting. Manticore hadn't given her a sinfully voluptuous body for no good reason.   
  
She'd almost got him. Once. Max had been on his butt again, saying the most heartless things. Why the boy didn't just haul off and bust her across the chops was a mystery. Anyway, Alec was feeling particularly lonely, and Minette, being the saint she was, offered a willing shoulder. Then a willing hand. Then a willing mouth.   
  
She had gotten him back to her home sweet home in T.C. when he pushed her away, saying he shouldn't be there. It was wrong. But he seemed confused, like he didn't understand why he was denying himself the pleasures of a warm, curvy, and eager body on tonight of all nights. What was it wrong against, she had asked. Was it wrong to look for some pleasure in dire times such as these? Was it wrong against a vindictive drifter who didn't appreciate him anyway? He had grimaced, nodded his head, and began attacking her lips with his once more. She had gotten him to her bed, coaxing him, telling him he had wanted her, when with a heartfelt "No!" Alec shot off and disappeared into the night. In his haste, he had forgotten his shirt.  
  
She still had it, three years later.  
  
The next morning, word had it that Alec and Max had been in a fight later that night. Pretty ugly, witnesses had said. They were surprised someone hadn't been killed. Minette had been very smug. For all of three minutes.   
  
She had headed to the infirmary, hoping to offer some more words of comfort, when she was cut off by Joshua. Wrinkling her nose in disgust at the "Mog" - half man, half dog - she delicately asked where Alec was.  
  
"He's in his apartment," he'd replied.  
  
"Why isn't he here? I heard the fight was ugly," she had impatiently asked.  
  
"Was ugly. Max and Alec grab medical stuff and head back to his apartment," the dog-boy had smiled faintly then. "Said they could take care of each other. They're family. They looked like they had been crying."  
  
A pissed Minette couldn't listen anymore.  
  
After the infamous fight, one of many, so she had discreetly heard, those two had been even closer. The tension between those two was unbearable. They put on a front like they detested each other, were actually close friends, they trusted each other with their lives, and both were subconsciously debating on wanting something more. Even if they denied it from themselves, Minette had known better. Everyone in Terminal City had known better. LOGAN had known better.  
  
What really pissed her off, was that for all the flirtations between Alec and herself - though they had grown increasingly sparse over time, it seemed none of the girls were succeeding with him after awhile - Minette had never touched Alec the way Max had. She and Alec had flirted because things between them were easily blithe; Max and Alec illogically ran against each other because they were profoundly multi-layered.  
  
The real trick was getting to Alec before they both figured out what they really wanted.  
  
There was a movie smuggled into Terminal City once, something called "Moulin Rouge". Everyone was in need of entertainment and any diversion from their paltry lives. The movie itself was eccentric, but it had pinned down one lesson Minette had learned long ago. Men like their women in three categories: wilting flower, bright and bubbly, or smoldering temptress.  
  
Minette was a smoldering temptress, and she could work her embers well. Max was a wilting flower, drying out quickly. And Alec didn't want a whiner on his hands. All a girl of her type needed to do was sit on her hands, maybe plant a few "innocent" suspicions, and wait for the sand to drain out of the hourglass.  
  
*****  
  
Whether the man knew it or not, he still wanted her. Minette took the olive out of her dry martini, sucking on it in a tempting fashion. She had diverted his attention for the last fifteen minutes. Between the recent news on the dispersed transgenics, or subtle but sweetly covered digs towards Max, the boy hadn't the time to glance in his wife's direction. Or so she had planned it that way. Alec had entirely too many "fleeting looks" in Max's direction by Minette's scorecard.  
  
They lapsed into a "companionable" silence. Both silently watching Max and Cindy play a game of pool.   
  
Never one to lose an edge, Minette assessed her competition. Max didn't have the curves like she did. Any curves she had were hidden anyway. She dressed like a girl at one time, when the siege had started. But when clothes had run short, Max had given her attire over to girls who were appropriately concerned with their appearance. They wanted to actually let their figures say that they were female, while Max gladly threw herself into baggy boys clothes, saying they were "more comfortable". It was disgusting. She was practically shapeless and a complete grunge. The girl had even cut her hair, her most promising asset. It was cropped above her ears; she could have practically copied that "Bed Head" look that was so popular at the turn of the millennium. Hideous and boyish in form, she no longer resembled anything female, but she wasn't quite male either.   
  
Could she be more "Jane Eyre"?  
  
And they certainly didn't walked alike. Max held herself in a quirky fashion. It was like she was part naive schoolgirl still, part humble soldier - What soldier doesn't use a gun anyway? - and part strapping woman. Naïveté wasn't fit to survive these days. True soldiers don't show any concern for the enemy. And women were not made to be "strapping" in a gawky fashion. Women were supposed to be well-built, yes, but not as if they were overgrown tomboys. Minette was proud; she knew how to use her body to get attention.   
  
But Max did carry herself with an unusual grace. No matter what, Minette had to give her enemy that. But she was still ugly. Even when the siege was over, she kept her hair short because it was hassle free, her clothes baggy because she "kind of liked having [her] body covered". She was just too lazy to "dress to impress", not worth even the smallest glance.  
  
Then why the in name of all that's holy was Alec staring at her that way? 


	8. Oh Boy

Disclaimer: I still don't own 'em. Are ya shocked? ... No? Me neither.  
  
A/N: I don't own "Piece of My Heart", that is all Janis Joplin.  
  
  
  
  
Oh Boy  
  
  
  
"Max," he whispered.  
  
No response.  
  
"Ma-aax," he sang, even softer this time.  
  
No response. Wait...nope, just a slight snore.  
  
Alec shrugged his shoulders "remorsefully", anticipating his next move. A theatrical sigh escaped him. A part of Alec had to admit he didn't want to wake Max up. She was just sleeping there, so peacefully, a rarity for her. Especially with the nightmares she had been having over recent weeks. His brow creased as he stared at her. She actually looked...child-like, sweet. A small dry chuckle flew out at that thought. Sweet? Still, he inspected her a little longer. She was a definite "spoon sleeper". The snuggling type, he thought wryly.   
  
A sudden image flashed across his brain. His face in her hair, her faintly burrowing back against him. The thought was warming if ludicrous. She might no longer hate him, but she wouldn't embrace any physical contact, no pun intended. They weren't the touchy-feely types anyway. Nonetheless, one of Alec's fingers slipped out and brushed the short hair off of her forehead, instinctively savoring the softness of her skin.   
  
She was warm. Too warm. Her forehead was clammy. Alec frowned but quickly shoved off the concern. The girl was practically acting out "The Princess and the Pea", with the mountain of blankets she collected. Where did they all come from anyway?  
  
As it was said, a part of Alec didn't want to wake Max. On the other hand...with an excessively large smirk, an acrobatic leap, and a half-twist in mid-air, he gracefully collapsed onto the queen-sized bed with a satisfying "Wham!"  
  
Followed by a very satisfying screech. Naturally, since Alec was a perfect judge of depth, he had managed to fall neatly next to Max, as opposed to squashing the unsuspecting girl. One point for him. Of course, he managed to overlook the fact that since he didn't land on Max, she - with transgenic reflexes - would have him pinned in a nanosecond. Back to ground zero. Max was sitting on his stomach, had his hands pinned to the bed, and was leaning over him in a rather sinister manner. She had yet to commence a flurry of punches and indecipherable screams. That would probably put the voyeur in the negative points range.  
  
Then again, Max was positioned on his stomach. Her thighs were almost painfully clenching his sides in anger. Hmm, and she was wearing a pair of his boxers. Would that be bonus round?  
  
"Morning, my stunning enchantress." Oops, that sounded a little too sincere. Throw in some sarcasm man! "I trust you slept well?" he finished mockingly. See, was insincerity so difficult?   
  
He threw in a quick once over, covering his actual curiosity with a smirk. Her hair was tousled, sticking out in every direction. A set of eyes was meticulously carving out parts of his face at this point. Two cheeks were flushed from sleep. And an entire body was trembling from tightly leashed fury. Note to those who listen: Never let a leer transform into a real smile. The things Alec had to compete against were just insufferable. Not to mention that he felt his body heat rise to a dangerous level.   
  
Yeah. Right about now would be the time to get her off.  
  
But Max's flabbergasted silence had passed, and she was ready to lay into him. "Alec you bastard!" she screamed, wailing a fist into his stomach. "I swear to God if I didn't need you for another 16 months I would..." a stream of severe, body-racking coughs cut her off. She collapsed against his chest when Alec's hands grappled her arms. He rolled her protectively onto her side, their limbs loosely entangled. He silently held her until the fit subsided.  
  
"I feel like crap," she croaked after catching her breath.  
  
"You chose a fine time to get sick," Alec started. "You gotta work a double-shift today."  
  
"I can't help it!" she whined, starting to cough again.  
  
"I know, I know," he said. He supportively patted her back throughout the next tantrum.   
  
"Alec, I don't think I can make it to work today," Max said.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
A quick call to Normal ensued. While Alec and the boss argued for fifteen minutes in the kitchen, Max walked into the living room like a zombie, and dropped her weary body on the couch. Now wearing a washed-out sweat suit, she gazed up at him looking for the world like a lost...kitten.   
  
"Normal listen, I know Max said she could work double shifts today, but she is so sick..." Alec covered the receiver and groaned in aggravation. With a deep sigh, he agitatedly ran his fingers through his cropped hair.   
  
"Yeah Normal...I could...that would be perfect...okay. Bye." He hit the "Talk" button on the cordless phone, therefore hanging it up, and tossed it behind him triumphantly. He sat down on the couch, throwing an arm around his bemused wife. "You know, I hate to brag." Max, sure enough, scoffed. Alec shot her a dry glare. "But you are the luckiest woman in the world, to be married to me."  
  
A quick sneeze followed. "How do you figure that Golden-Boy?" Max said.  
  
Alec just snapped his fingers in Max's direction, like she just found the answer for why the chicken really did cross the road. "See, that's just it. I AM Golden Boy."  
  
"Nothin' to be proud of Alec."  
  
"So someone so uneducated as yourself would think," he began in a sneaky fashion. "But I, Golden-Boy, not only got you out of work today..." Dramatic pause. "But I also got you out of the double-shift. Permanently. You don't have to work it when you get back."   
  
Max was shocked. "How?"  
  
"I had to sell my hollow soul to Normal," he said proudly, beaming down at her.   
  
"Hate to break it to you...cupcake," Max stated dryly. "But I don't think it's your 'soul' Normal wants." She gave him a quick look over to emphasize her point.  
  
Now, Max's glance may have been staged, but Alec was still a human being; a man, if you will. And Max was nestled into his side. And she had just given him some degree, however faked, of "The Look". Maybe another shower before work wouldn't be a bad idea. A cold shower. Especially with her drowsily nuzzling her face into the point where his head and shoulder met. If her 'sick breath' could feel that good on his sensitive skin...  
  
Alec shot up like a rocket. "Well," he began roughly, but quickly cleared his throat. "Well," he began more naturally. "I really should head in. Can't keep the boss waiting. I'll uh...I'll drop you off some lunch? You want me to pick up something?" he asked, darting madly about the apartment, not looking into Max's eyes.  
  
"Sure, maybe you could drop off some Chicken Noodle Soup. Would noon-ish sound okay to you?"   
  
"Noon, sounds perfect," he rolled off absentmindedly, turning the knob on the door. He whirled around suddenly, "Are you going to be okay? Do you need someone to stay with you, do that whole pampering thing? I could call Logan..."  
  
Now Max was the one - albeit unsteadily - on her feet. She tried to walk sturdily towards him, putting on the "I'm O.K." front. She was fine until one of her socks hit a soft spot on the slick linoleum floor and she slipped. Luckily Alec caught her. Now standing within inches of each other, they both chuckled. It was amazing was laughter could do to release the mounting tension in a room.  
  
"I'll be fine," she sneezed. "It's probably all the stress recently anyway, plus that whole bug that's been going around. I may have been made perfect like you Alec, but you got another ten years of vaccinations on me. A day on my back wouldn't kill me anyway."  
  
"Are you sure you..." He was brought to a halt by a warm set of fingers on his lips. Both Max and Alec's eyes widened at the contact. The hand slowly, almost regretfully, dropped to her side. The atmosphere returned to its original pressure after a charged silence.  
  
"Well," Alec started, heading out the door, "I better get to work. Can't lose my 'Golden-Boy' status and become a mere slacker such as yoursel..ach!"  
  
Max had pushed him out the door forcefully, slamming it shut close behind. A wry smile spread across her face before she had the chance to suppress it with her usual scowl. She strutted somewhat smugly to the couch, grabbing Kleenex and some 'questionable' O.J. on the way. When she got herself situated, Max turned on the television.   
  
News. She was sick of politics.   
  
Click.  
  
Pre-Pulse "Tom and Jerry". Not today.  
  
Click.  
  
"As the World Turns", at a particularly sensual moment.  
  
Hasty click.  
  
She flipped through the channels, becoming more and more in disconcerted as she realized nothing too great was on.   
  
Of course her frustration had absolutely nothing to do with the way Alec had gazed at her when she had been vengefully situated on him. It had absolutely nothing to do with the way he held her during her body-wracking coughs. And it had absolutely NOTHING to do with his supple yet firm lips leaving an impression on her fingertips.  
  
Click. Click. Click.  
  
Having had enough - of the lack of quality TV, of her stupid cold, and of her own traitorous thoughts - she turned a monotonous telecaster off and wrathfully flung the remote across the room.  
  
Now if she could just cast off her own contemplations so easily.   
  
*****  
  
Alec spent his first two and a half-hours on the job delivering packages to the boondocks of Seattle. It was not only far, but also cold and raining cats and dogs to boot. But that was alright. Contrary to most feline opinion, Alec was partial to rain. A body would have to build up at least some tolerance to stay in the vicinity of Seattle. And further runs weren't so horrific today; he needed time to think. And Alec had to be high up or traveling fast to think at his absolute clearest. Pounding some serious pavement due to being heavily laden with parcels, he used his more than ample time to run through the mornings events again. And again.  
  
The 'what-ifs' and 'maybes' had commenced their attack on his brain the instant he'd been shoved - undeservedly, he might add - out the door. The one or two enemy questions had multiplied over and over on the brisk ride to work. He stalled them off while greeting his comrades, explaining Max's absence to Cindy, and picking up packages from Normal. It wasn't until he had picked up a grueling pace a sector and a half away before he let the floodgates go kaput. After two and a half-hours of an analytical silence, a raging analytical silence, Alec let his brain, as well as his body shut down. He slid his bike gracefully into a deserted alley, leapt off his bike and slumped against the wall, dropping his butt towards the dirty pavement.   
  
Things couldn't have been played differently this morning. Even if they could've been, the past couldn't be changed now. Gasping for air from his torturous tempo, he put his head in his hands and began to rock in slight motions back and forth. He growled at his palms, angered by his reactions and weaknesses.   
  
Alec did a quick mental tally, how long had it been? Three years. He just hadn't been with a woman in three years; it was sexual frustration, that was all. He was surprised at his own abstinence, not wanting to know why he started to withdraw from the gratifications of the opposite and oh-so-willing sex. Nope, that reasoning didn't settle right in his stomach. Sexual frustration didn't make him care about someone else. Even if that was his problem, the thought of going back to mindless sex didn't appeal to his normally horny senses. Especially when the last time he'd even come close to second base was with...  
  
Minette. Alec groaned again, knocking his head back against the wall. A grunt sounded at the impact. When his vision cleared, he went back to thrusting his face into his hands. He snickered scornfully. Look at him, a Manticore soldier, brought to this pathetic moment and spot by a couple of women.  
  
Minette was a pill. A dangerous pill; he had to give credit where it was due. She was a crafty demon, offering him pleasures she knew he hadn't tasted in a lengthy while. She probably just figured it was some sort of phase. Well, her guess was as good as his. He didn't know why he had pulled away from several agreeable partners.  
  
Now if the back of his mind would just stop sneering at him, Alec could convince himself that he didn't know.  
  
Back to more important problems. He resettled his mind on the stunning, corrupt, and voracious Minette. And more particularly, how he still wanted her. Alec wasn't completely immune; he understood her game and knew where it would end. Too bad the blissful, if fleeting, middle passage was so enticing. Minette was just lust, quick to blaze and even quicker to chill over. But lust was a lot easier to play around than these unsettling, understated, and delicate feelings he had for M...correction, had had for Rachel.   
  
Man, if he thought this deep too much longer his eyes would be permanently crossed. Alec laughed at the thought. He stood up and made a dismal attempt at wiping some of the muck off his pants. Quickly checking his bag, he realized he had no deliveries left. He had told Normal his runs would take him the majority of the morning, and that after he was finished he would grab some lunch and stop in to check on Max. Normal had sulkily agreed to the terms, since Alec was the only one willing to take the difficult sector and he was 'Golden-Boy'. Jealous pouting was not a becoming look for his boss. Alec let out another small shutter at the thought.   
  
*****  
  
"Joshua, it's your agent, let me in." At the silence, Alec banged on the door again. Another silence followed. Alec was ready to kick the door in when it flung open, revealing a rather unpleasant individual. Looking the creature in the eye, he picked up a southern accent and seriously asked, "Excuse me ma'am," he tipped an imaginary hat. "But do you happen to know the whereabouts of the man of the house?"  
  
"Alec," Mole warned.  
  
"I know, I know," he greeted warmly, tapping the lizard-man's arm and letting his smile shine through. "I am a lowly X-series, not worthy of the ground you spit your tobacco on."  
  
Now it was Mole's turn to smile. "As long as you know your place, freak," he mockingly growled.  
  
Alec snapped to attention, "Sir, yes, sir!" he yelled.  
  
Mole heartily laughed. "At ease soldier, I'll show you to the man of the house."  
  
Joshua had moved back into his father's house, just like old times. But this time, he had brought other tenants with him. It seemed the jokingly named "Four Musketeers" had officially become inseparable. Joshua had lived by himself for a full week - much to Alec's amazement - before he had asked Mole, Dix, and Luke, to move in with him. They of course, had heartily agreed.  
  
"You know," Alec said, heading for the basement. "I think I read that when people live together they start to act like each other. Does that mean you'll develop a taste for Salvador Dali? Or maybe it said they start to look like each other." Alec stopped. A complete look of sheer terror crossed his face. "So you, with a little bit of Josh, a smidgen of Dix, and a dash of look..." he screamed, covering his face. "The horror!"  
  
Mole not-so-lightly tapped him upside the head with his ever-present shotgun, and continued to good-naturedly chuckle all the way down the stairs. Both men dipped their heads at the stoop, and cleared the stairs. Mole turned to Alec, who seemed impressed with the set up. "Nice," he commented. Dix and Joshua seemed to really fall in with each other's hobbies. The basement seemed to be set up for them. On one side, Dix had his computer equipment lined up, while Josh had his easel and paints on the other. And with their shared love of the written word, overflowing bookshelves lined the two open walls. "Very nice," Alec said. He turned to his tour guide, "What about you?"   
  
"All violent weapons are kept upstairs," Dix casually replied, looking up from his encyclopedia. "Mole and Luke seem to really balance each other out. Mole is fiery and clever, while Luke is the tolerable and good-looking one. And neither of them understands the appeal of a dank basement." Mole grunted in response to the jabs.  
  
Alec slipped a dime into Mole's hand and walked over to Josh's side. A bemused Mole turned to Dix, who chuckled and said he'd explain the joke later. Satisfied with the response, he told Alec he'd just go tell Luke to get the Chicken Noodle Soup ready. Now it was Alec's turn to be surprised. After Mole headed upstairs, he turned to his dawg, "Luke cooks?" he asked.  
  
"Taught him," Joshua said somewhat smugly.  
  
"Well, I'll be damned," Alec said.  
  
"Most likely," Dix quipped. The three laughed.  
  
"What are you working on, Josh?" Alec asked.  
  
"Annie," the painter responded. Annie was still Joshua's soft spot, he obviously stilled mourned her loss. But these days, he didn't act like her death was the absolute end of his world. He smiled and joked, coming to terms with her early and unnecessary death. Things were looking up and had reverted back towards the way they had been before. Even better in some ways. Rita still bought Joshua's paintings - sometimes Alec acted as his agent, sometimes Joshua advertised himself - and he seemed to be an unusual hit with the art patrons. Something about the tortured soul of a Manticorian appealed to them. Well, whatever kept his friend happy.   
  
A quick glance at his watch said it was 11:45. He could be back to the apartment in fifteen minutes, check on Max for about five minutes, and pedal his butt back to work by 12:30. Considering he had taken over Max's double shift, the thought of getting back - and more importantly, done - agreed with Alec.  
  
Saying good-bye to his comrades and praising Luke for his well-done job on the soup, Alec headed home, not knowing the shock awaiting him.  
  
*****  
  
"One pill makes you larger  
And one pill a makes you small  
And the one that mother gives you  
Don't do anything at all  
Go ask Alice..." Max continued to croon into the shower stream. Convinced her body was clear of any soap, she turned off the water. Still singing, she dried her body. Following a quick swipe of her agile hand to rid the bathroom mirror of condensation, she brushed her wet hair away from her face.   
  
  
"...And the white knight is talking backwards  
And the red queen is 'Off with her head'  
Remember, what the doorman said,  
'Feed the hare! Feed the hare!'" she belted out, finishing the song on a bold note. She wrapped her body securely with a surprisingly fluffy towel. It was simply amazing what a hot shower could do for a sick body. Heavy emphasis on hot. She hadn't had a hot shower - before marrying Alec that is - in six, maybe seven years. Hmmm, the thought of hot showers until death do they part was almost enough for Max to forgo the idea of divorce. Almost.   
  
She was feeling much better. Hey, at this rate, she might even be able to face Alec comfortably by the time he came home that night. Sudden stomach ripples told her she might as well forgo that idea also. Strolling out into the living room she told herself she'd do the best she could when their time came.  
  
Which, judging by the way her husband was bent over a bowl of Chicken Noodle Soup in the kitchen, would be right at that precise moment.  
  
She looked longingly at her temporary bedroom door, contemplating a plan, any plan, to get her from the spot she was standing to the sanctuary of her room without him observing her latest vogue of "Martha Stewart TowelWear".  
  
Then he began to talk. Not to himself, but to her.  
  
Oh boy.  
  
*****  
  
Alec had walked into about the line where "the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go." He practically laughed out loud at the discovery. He could've pictured Max as a 'spoon sleeper', but as a 'shower singer' to boot? She wasn't a half-bad singer. She wouldn't win any Academy Awards, but who did these days? A little off-key perhaps; but on the all around, not bad. Alec nodded in approval. It was actually kind of endearing, domestic even.  
  
He heard the shower stop, but Max kept singing, no longer drowned out by the sound of water hitting the tub. He chuckled. Knowing she'd be hungry, and that the refrigerator offered little else than mold, he quickly washed a couple of bowls and the necessary weapons for eating. He tested the soup and found it to still be warm. When his own stomach rumbled, he decided he'd had enough of being polite, and began to chow down. Luke had really outdone himself.   
  
He heard Max end on a rather bold note. Knowing she'd be out any second, he did a quick mental preparation, telling himself to forget what had transpired that morning in this same kitchen. Right. He was a fool if he believed he could forget her face snuggled into his neck. Three hours later, he still felt the contact; how perfectly she had fit in the crook of his neck. But it didn't mean anything. He tersely nodded. "Right," he softly said, convincing himself rather admirably.  
  
Alec wanted to avoid looking at her as long as possible, so when he heard her shuffle across the floor, he didn't bother looking up. Best to open with a sharp-witted comment, maybe that could cover his flushed cheeks. The thought of her singing in the shower brought up innocent desires best forgotten.  
  
He checked his watch again.   
  
12:05:36 it read.  
  
He decided to take the plunge. "So back in the late 1960's and 70's people were frowned upon for singing about drugs, so the artists covered their drug fixation with seemingly innocent characters. "Puff the Magic Dragon" is all about Dooby-Snacks and "White Rabbit" was Jefferson Airplane's use of Alice in Wonderland for Acid. Isn't amazing what you can learn at Manti...?"  
  
This was roughly about the time he raised his eyes.   
  
They fell upon Max...  
  
...in nothing but a towel.  
  
Oh boy.  
  
*****  
  
Nothing.  
  
Have you ever heard about how sometimes, two opponents outside the "domestic realm" of the animal kingdom, will face each other silently for minutes at a time, trying to assess their foe's first move? It's quite fascinating actually; two adversaries will mutely measure each other up. No roaring, stamping feet, showing colors, or other forms of intimidation are deemed necessary. But what seems to us like stark fear emanating from both parties is actually study and pre-battle mode sinking in. Have you ever heard of that?  
  
No?  
  
Neither had Alec. He was just grasping for a reason, any reason, to blame for his lack of a witty comment. Or, as it would be better put, lack of anything. Here he was, just sitting their staring at Max like he was some hormonal pre-teen and she was the prom queen who offered to let time turn a single into a double and run for second base. He glumly mentally scratched the hope it was merely faulty DNA.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Wait. No, a message was coming in. It was from the Eyes trying to communicate to the last part of the Brain that hadn't been paralyzed by shock. It was coming in now...  
  
She...  
  
...she looked...  
  
...she looked...magnificent.   
  
Whew, who'd have guessed it was so difficult to search for a complete thought? Considering the millions of brain waves bouncing around in his mind within the next nanosecond, computing thoughts and memorizing images, Alec sure wouldn't have. But now that he started, he just couldn't stop. And complete thoughts were once again impossible, and not because lack of brain activity. The flood of bits and pieces hit the ground so hand and fast, then flowed away so quickly, he couldn't soak up all the sweet fragments at once.  
  
Dripping hair. Luminous eyes. Angelic. Innocent. Water rivulets on skin.  
  
Wait. Another message was coming in...   
  
...Her hair was growing back out.  
  
That was it. Reality slapped him dead in the face; thankfully hard enough to knock him out of disastrous territory.   
  
When the original power source had shorted out from shock, some extraordinary neuron had taken it upon himself to find the alternative source of power, God bless it. And with one sane thought, the unique neuron had flicked the switch, sending Alec crashing back to reality.   
  
"Well, Max," he said. "This is a side of you I have never seen before."  
  
*****  
  
Nothing.  
  
He just stared at her as if she was fantasy, not flesh and blood like him. He didn't say anything; it was almost like he was speechless, Max quickly scorned the thought. It was impossible for him NOT to vocalize an opinion.  
  
But his eyes...he was looking at HER.  
  
He always made it a point to look everyone in the eyes when he talked to them; she had noticed this. But this, this was different. He was looking at HER. It was as if for one instant, he could see into her vulnerable soul.  
  
Max had had her moments with Logan. Those special moments, where time stopped slowed to a pause, locking them in time.  
  
This wasn't one of those moments. This was liquid fire: fast, furious, and unforgiving. This was surreal.  
  
Then when it seemed he was taking in every part of her at an impossibly increasing rate, he shut down.   
  
"Well, Max," he said. "This is a side of you I have never seen before."  
  
*****  
  
Max seemed to hurtle out of her own alternate universe. With an indescribable flash of fire, mortification, awareness, and something not quite telling in her eyes, she let out a screech of frustration. Blurring across the apartment, she secured herself into her room with a satisfying, eardrum bursting SLAM!  
  
Alec quickly didn't dare wade in his own reveries. Wading would lead to swimming; if Alec swam, he would drown.  
  
Getting ready to head out the door, back to life at Jam Pony, he checked his watch.  
  
It read 12:05:47.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Thank you for the reviews. Especially Dia, Caderyn (Thank you for the critique!), Chocaholic, Scarlet, and everyone who has reviewed more than once. I really, really appreciate it. Give yourself a nice big hug from me! 


	9. Blizzards Blow Bluntly

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Go Figure.  
  
A/N: MAX IS A VIRGIN!!! Don't ask me why this is important, or how it fits in with the story, or even how she could go through a heat cycle without "scratching the itch". It's my world now; I can play with them how I want. ::growls:: Whew, I think the power of the pen is going to my head here.  
  
A/N 2: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I felt so loved!  
  
A/N 3: The line "for once in your life, shut up", technically doesn't belong to me. I thought of it before I realized I had seen it in the movie "Angel in Green". It's a cute flick, I recommend it.  
  
  
The cat burglar wandered down the hallway of the massive mansion almost aimlessly. Sure, he was here on a job, but when you live in an apartment the size of a dime, one feels the need to take pleasure in "the finer things", even if they don't belong to him. And in this case, especially when they didn't belong to him. The cat was on the prowl for a Salvador Dali original, the one where the chick's profile is also a room. Judging by his quick sweep on recon, the Dali was on the third floor, two doors down on the left, and on the east wall.   
  
Eluding the security system was almost too easy. When a man had this much money, he should be more careful on how he protected it. Oh well, no skin off of Alec's nose. He was probably an old-timer, who never quite caught on to how corrupt life was post-Pulse. The guy most likely still lived in the times when a candy bar cost a dollar. Or he just didn't care.  
  
Once again, a small tidal wave of uneasiness washed over Alec. Rolling his shoulders in reverse, he forced the tide to the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind.  
  
Slinking skillfully against the far wall, Alec picked the lock with deft fingers. When the lock clicked, he swung inside the door. Eyes on the prize, he gleefully - yet in a soldierly fashion - stole across the thick carpet. He was just about to reach the booty when he tripped.   
  
Over a warm body; female if his senses weren't mistaken. Alec almost angrily bounced to his feet, infuriated now that he had definitely lost his chance at three million dollars, on the house of course.   
  
Swerving to face the still sleeping individual, he lightly but tersely grabbed at her. Alec shook of the forewarning of how familiar the arm felt in his hand. He was quickly moved to wipe the lengthy hair off of her face, anger rapidly melting into concern when he registered how cold her skin felt. She still hadn't moved or made a sleepy protest against waking just because a solid body dropped in on her.   
  
It was almost as if the girl was...dead. Alec involuntary shuddered at the thought with a brief but burdensome wave of grief washing over him. The first few strands fell from her neck to reveal a necklace.   
  
Her necklace; THE necklace.  
  
Alec fell from his crouched position to flat on his back. He laid there, immobilized by terror for much longer than a soldier's training would allow. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be.   
  
Memory flashes danced across his brain, taunting him with painful and practiced steps.   
  
Soft kisses. Beguiling eyes. An infantile laugh leapt to stunned ears, only to professionally waltz away.   
  
"I love you."  
  
A stolen necklace rests naively in an assassin's hand.   
  
A car exploded, destroying three different worlds.   
  
One hundred years later, Alec's fingers finally got the message to move, even if it only amounted in a pathetic twitch. A thousand years later, his neck began to rise. It took the soldier a hundred thousand terrified years to resume the stoop he had swiftly fallen into an eternity ago.  
  
It took another three million years for two quivering fingers to brush a few strands of hair off her face. Two lips scorned him dispassionately. The hair swept away further, where a ghastly white cheek shunned him. Suffocating in his own fear and sorrow, he whimpered timidly. Using the very last of his reserves, he completely cleared half of the face.   
  
One wide open, lifeless yet accusing brown eye glared up at him.   
  
He woke up, quickly taking in the ghost that stood before him.  
  
"Rachel," he whispered brokenly.  
  
*****  
  
Max had been fighting her shark DNA all night. She should be tired. She WAS tired; exhausted, in fact. And yet she couldn't sleep. Every time she felt her self slipping into the purgatory between the land of consciousness and troubled dreams, another wave of restlessness washed over her. After tossing and turning for hour upon hour, she stormed from her bed. But she stormed quietly, mind you. Her husband was probably sleeping. Lucky bastard.  
  
As a last resource, Max decided to heat some milk. Heated milk helped lull ordinaries to sleep and cats supposedly loved milk. Maybe between the mix she could sleep for a week, or at least the next four hours. Too bad she didn't like milk. Max wrinkled her nose at a whiff of the warming milk, but decided to swallow her disgust when she took another glance at the clock. She really needed some sleep.   
  
But if two negatives equaled a positive in math, maybe two positives equal a negative in genetics. Math and science were closely related, right?  
  
But when looking beyond the present mood, Max had been feeling better lately, grateful even. It was just a few days ago when she had finally come to terms with her hand in Ben's death. She remembered dreaming of him, how he held her all night long, accepting the sputtered apologies and telling her how much he loved her. How he loved her still. It had almost been real; the arms wrapped around her, the confessions whispered into her hair. She felt an overflowing gratitude just thinking about that night. She could still feel the imprint of his lips on her cheeks. His whispered, "I love you" rang softly in her ear again.   
  
But a quick glance down brought her back from cloud nine. Was the milk even safe to drink?   
  
Max was just putting the poison to her lips when she heard it. A whimper? The noise was coming from Alec's room. Setting her mug on the counter, she crept across the floor, staying mindful of where it creaked. Opening the door slowly, she gave the room an all-encompassing glance. When she was satisfied with her recon, she settled her eyes on the victim.   
  
He was scrunched into his pillow almost fetal-like, small sobs occasionally escaping Alec's scrunched face. He was obviously crying; and judging by the stains on his pillow, he'd done it before. A strange sense of sympathy enveloped Max; if she knew how ugly and real the dreams could get, Alec knew all the better. He seemed so heartbroken, his body moving against almost physical blows.   
  
Alec's grieving lulled her into a hypnotic state, so she was completely taken off guard by his next move. But judging the perplexing reaction, she couldn't have been prepared anyway.  
  
She watched two of his trembling fingers brush almost spellbindingly across his pillow. It was almost reverential. Max felt herself choking up, so she moved her eyes towards his face. Big mistake; if Max felt herself losing control by a couple of fingers, she was silently crying herself when she fully took in his expression. In all their years together, she had never seen Alec so miserable before. Even after the "First Fight" he didn't lose this much control, pull down his barriers. But then again, he subconsciously thought he was alone, not realizing he had an audience.  
  
Or at least, he had subconsciously thought he was alone.   
  
Two stormy eyes snapped open, still lost in their dream's memories. He stared at her as if she was...well, a spirit of sorts.   
  
"Rachel," he murmured dejectedly.  
  
*****  
  
Alec didn't know how he got it. God knew Alec didn't deserve it. But Alec would be damned if he didn't take this one fateful chance to apologize to Rachel, even if she was a ghost.   
  
"Rachel's" eyes widened in shock as she found herself collapsing against a solid, groveling chest. Two arms wrapped around the "spirit's" body, never intending to release her. Alec's tears and muttered apologies found themselves mingling into surprisingly short hair. Oh well, maybe she had wanted a haircut once she got to the other side.  
  
"Rachel, I am so sorry. I didn't know. I should've fought harder. I loved you so much," he whispered, shoving his face into her neck. She smelled even sweeter than Alec had remembered. "Please, I am begging you, forgive me. Words can never say..."  
  
Words couldn't say. Oh sure, the guy could say he was sorry. He could tell her he missed her. How she had changed him. And over the next fifteen minutes, he did. He confessed everything, holding nothing back. But words still couldn't say everything. They couldn't tell just how much he hated himself for destroying her sweet life; they couldn't voice how much he had wished he had died with her. Words were inadequate in revealing just how hard he tried to keep her memory alive.  
  
Words couldn't say, but maybe actions could.  
  
He began planting innocent kisses across her neck, her cheeks, and her eyelids. No square inch of her face was to remain unconsecrated, even if it was his unworthy lips bestowing stolen kisses on her. She deserved to know just how much she had changed him. Alec's life with the other sex had always been lustful; with her he had felt the passion arise, but always the need to remain chaste. Her innocent love was rare, and had made him a better man. He began to truly fight the day he met her.  
  
But before his lips could meet hers, Alec stopped himself. Slowly positioning himself above her, he gazed into her eyes. Well, he tried to look into her eyes; the tears kept blocking the perfect view. But before he could bring a frustrated hand to wipe away his weakness, a tender one took its designated swipe. Now he could see her fully, tears staining her own cheeks as well. "Alec," she whispered.  
  
She sounded like Max; a bittersweet voice. Alec sighed masochistically; even now he couldn't fully thrust his spouse from his thoughts. Trying to push off Max from his already tortured reflection, Alec stared at "Rachel."  
  
Then he knew what he had to do.  
  
"Rachel," he started hoarsely. Choked up, he cleared his throat. He began more normally the second time, "Rachel. I have loved you. You will always be in part of my heart; even if you don't wish to stay there, I'm gonna hold you against your will." He paused and stared longer, relieved by what he saw lying within the "ghost's" orbs. "You've forgiven me, haven't you Rach?"  
  
"No, Alec," she said. Off of his defeated expression, the woman spoke again, "There is nothing that needs to be forgiven."  
  
"I love you," he whispered against her lips. He kissed her softly, worshipfully. Alec's lips rested against "Rachel's" for a fleetingly eternal moment. It was too swift, perfect, and too lengthy all at once. Pulling back, Alec sighed, he felt as old as time itself, yet refreshed. Almost as if he had been given a chance to start again. Hunching over her, he memorized every feature. The planes of her face, the glittering eyes, the quirk of her lips; they knitted themselves together and nestled inside his breast.   
  
Rachel was a bittersweet memory. With one last visit, his guilt had been absolved. Alec might not be able to fully forgive himself now, but she could. All he had to do was build from there.  
  
"Go," he said. And after a moment's hesitation, she did.   
  
Alec knew he'd never see her again. Of all the strange phenomena Life had to offer, that was one thing Alec could be sure of.  
  
He rolled onto his back, letting out a somewhat strangled noise, caught between a sob and a laugh, an adverse past and a potentially bright future. So Alec cried first, then began to chuckle into his pillow, but all of the sudden stopped. Unexpectedly even more troubled then before, he rolled over into another round of awkward dreams.   
  
A memory of Rachel giggling with her father had been swiftly cut short by the stunning image of a laughing Max.  
  
*****  
  
"Alec, honey," O.C. beckoned, motioning with one graceful hand for him to come her way. The messenger chuckled at her tone. What did Sketchy call her? Oh yes, "Her Originalness". For once, the doped-out lackey was on the ball of things. O.C. didn't ask for favors, she didn't request. Cindy petitioned, demanded, and commanded. She was a real diplomat, royal even. And at this point in time, "Her Originalness" was willing to lower her stature to converse with his contemptible self.   
  
In a relaxed and playful mood, Alec played with the vibes he felt vibes emanating of her Royalness. Gravely closing his Jam Pony locker, he crossed the threshold with a knight's gait. He knelt on one knee before Cindy, solemnly saying, "Yes, my Queen." Sketchy predictably laughed, while an entertained Cindy rolled her eyes.   
  
"It only took men a few million years to learn their place," she drawled. "Congrats on being the first one, suga." Alec beamed a smile up to her.   
  
Rising from his kneeling on the floor, he swiftly turned around and had every intention of sidling up next to the uninterested girl. But halfway through the turn, he gaze flew over Max, who was chatting it up quite cozily with the pizza delivery guy. He was cool with that. But when her eyes swept over to his and she actually smiled, Alec lost his balance. He came down on the bench a lot harder then he intended, jarring O.C. in the process.   
  
By the time he cleared his face of any easily identified expression, Alec saw that O.C. was closely watching him again.  
  
"What?" he asked impatiently.  
  
"Nothing," came the cool reply.  
  
Alec scoffed. O.C. was up to something. Every time he turned around, the sidekick was watching him closely, meaningfully, as if she knew something he didn't. He glanced at Max again over his shoulder, who was still talking with the pizza bum.   
  
"Hey," he said to Cindy. "Do you think by the time she gets over here, the pizza will even be worth eating? I mean, even for me, Normal only gives so much time for lunch."  
  
A refined eyebrow rose; O.C.'s meaningful response to any hidden question. "Don't worry boo," she said cryptically. "In fact," she gestured in the little wife's direction. "Here she comes now. Heavy laden with enough grease to satisfy even your cravings."  
  
Sure enough, two seconds later, the loud thump of oily boxes, underdone dough, and fatty meats rattled against the table. "Next time Sketchy," Max warned. "You help pay for the pizza. If not, I am sure none of us have no problem taking in all this chow in front of you." Too enamored with a slice of pepperoni at the moment, Sketchy grunted in response. Max and Cindy looked at each other rolled their eyes expressively.   
  
"Just what the doctor ordered," Max whispered, grasping for a slice of mushroom. She took a sizeable bite, practically swooning as she sucked in all the flavors. Walking around the table, she sat down to O.C. saying, "I have been craving mushrooms all day."  
  
"Hey Max," a voice interrupted her delicious moment. "Who was that guy? You two seemed to know each other pretty well."  
  
Max's eyes bugged out when she practically choked on a suddenly offensive piece of pizza. After a couple a solid swats on the back - helpfully donated by Sketchy - she regained herself. "An old friend," she mumbled.  
  
"Oh," Alec said, suddenly piqued, though he tried to hide it. "Sooo, how did you two meet?"  
  
"Uh, he uh, dropped off pizzas here before," she said, her eyes desperately beseeching Cindy for some sort of help. She nodded in agreement, at a loss herself. Things just kept getting weirder and weirder between these two; while they involuntary moved closer towards the other, they kept trying to scratch their way out of the relationship, like it was some great trap ready to spring at any moment. And now all of the sudden Alec was initiating a chance to get to know his spouse. He almost seemed a teensy weensy bit envious, in a protective way.   
  
She had yet to see the boy take his eyes off of his wife for more than twenty seconds whenever they were in the same room. O.C. decided to sit back and enjoy the drama, instinctively knowing there would be pieces to pick up later.  
  
"What's his name?" Alec innocently asked. His hand started to tingle, so he absentmindedly scratched at it.  
  
"Rafer," Max said.  
  
The next question came without delay. "How long have you know him?"  
  
Max was suddenly wary, the tension was mounting between them again. "What's with the twenty questions?"  
  
"Just curious." He still involuntarily scratched at his hand; the tingling seemed to be getting worse.  
  
Max swallowed convulsively. Something was definitely wrong here; Alec had shown more "curiousness" in the last two minutes than he had been in the past six months of marriage. She was desperately trying to think up some believable excuse to make a hasty exit when inspiration hit, ringing in the reverberation of an angry beeper. "It's Logan," she sighed, obviously relieved. She turned to Cindy, "I'm gonna go hit him back," she said. With unusual urgency, she made her way across the room, away from her friend's watchfulness and her husband's probing eyes.  
  
O.C., on the other hand, watched the entire scene with something that could almost be described as pleasurable. One could never avoid the inevitable for too long a time. Alec was categorically suffering from early stages of jealousy. In this case jealousy was a good thing; it meant he cared. Things were going to be really aggressive for the next year or so, but Cindy had been armoring herself for the past six months. She watched Alec's tension coil up even further with Logan's buzz.   
  
Cindy ran a quick mental checklist, seeing if she would be ready for the battles to come. Kleenex, chocolate, heartfelt advice, a hairbrush, and a baseball bat. Hey, one had to start somewhere, right?  
  
*****  
  
Max had returned to work exactly one hour and twenty-three minutes later. Not that some random, unusually cocky, 6 foot, darker-haired, genetically-enhanced gentleman was counting or anything. She waltzed into the dingy workplace, happily taking a package from a bewildered Normal, a content smile plastered sickeningly across her face.   
  
Then again, Max had seemed a lot lighter within recent weeks. It was probably due to forgiving herself for her demise of her beloved brother. Alec knew that feeling himself, after seeing Rachel's ghost again, he felt rather buoyant as well.  
  
Alec recalled the night of Max's exoneration. Still half-asleep, she confessed her own battle with a personal abhorrence due to a violent death. Strangely moved, Alec couldn't resist playing the knight in dented armor, pulling her close and doing the brotherly things. He had run his fingers through her rapidly growing hair, whispered soothing words against her skin that had been slick from tears' rivers. He had even said he loved her, and kissed her cheeks in a brotherly fashion.  
  
No matter that "brotherly" was the last thing he had felt at the moment in question. He hadn't been with a woman in over three and a half years mind you. Needs long forgotten swept over him again, even stronger than his near drunken mistake with Minette. Something surreally domestic in holding a crying woman, that crying woman, stirred the long unavailable parts of his heart.  
  
But when the girl walked in from a visit with 'lover-boy', looking like she'd just been handed the moon (or a brand new Ninja, whatever the girl may prefer), he couldn't help but feel a little...used almost. Alec had been the one to embrace her when she needed it the most, not Logan. Shoving his disturbing contemplations away, Alec moved in Max's general direction, feeling the sudden need to chat it up with a particularly lovely female on the way. By the time he finally sidled up behind Max, she was already engrossed in a conversation with her counterpart.  
  
"...So you're coming right?" Max asked Original Cindy.  
  
"Of course boo. I wouldn't miss Doggie-Dawg's birthday party for the world."  
  
"Sooo," Alec began, almost sadistically pleased at Max's leap in surprise. He looked over his wife in an admonishing fashion. "Tsk, tsk, Dear. You should really be more careful. Who knows what brutal soul could come steal you away when you have your defenses down like that."  
  
Max wheeled around to face him. "Shut up," came the response.  
  
Alec ignored her command of course. "Sooo, what did 'lover-boy' want?"  
  
"He wanted," Max said through clenched teeth, "to finalize some plans for Joshua's birthday party tonight."  
  
"Hold up. You fly in here on cloud nine because of some birthday plans? Whew, what an exciting relationship!" he announced in an abnormally sarcastic manner, even for him.   
  
Max cuffed him dead across the face. Alec's head swung back with the blow. It was hard to tell who was more shocked by the action; Max, Alec, or their audience, Cindy and Normal.  
  
"Well, Maxie," he mockingly began, more severe than usual. "I didn't realize you were so touchy. Is it that time of the month again?" Unusually miffed, he swiveled on one heel, quickly grabbed a random package, and double-timed it out the door. Max was deserted ogling at the offending hand.  
  
*****  
  
Max and Alec didn't speak to each other until Josh's party. They didn't even see each other, in fact; it was studiously designed by the two of them to avoid any such contact. Alec had gone over to Joshua's pad early in order to help set up the whole extravaganza. Even in his joyous mood, his friend had noticed the tension in the younger X5, but wisely chose to make no comment. Cindy had called him before Alec even arrived, forewarning him of the day's events. Sensing the fact that she was putting a damper on her sensitive friend's party, she hurriedly told the Mog to enjoy himself. Max and Alec fight all the time.   
  
  
Still, he couldn't help but feel distraught by Alec's lack of reaction to...anything. He moved like a robot, doing what was asked of him in a logical mode. Joshua missed Alec's flare; the kid was almost a full-blown Manticorian again. It was like the first time he caught Alec playing the piano. It was beautiful and flowing, but extremely indifferent; "Alec" just wasn't there. Mole, Dix, and Luke felt the stiffness, and tried to get him to unwind, but to no avail. There was no passion, just the movements. All in all, it sucked.  
  
By the time the party was in full swing, Max had yet to show up. Logan was there. Everyone one was there, except Max. O.C. had shown up more than an hour earlier, keyed up to wish her "Big Boo" - as she lovingly referred to him - a happy birthday. Her arrival seemed to slap Alec out of his trance; for a few fleeting moments, he avidly searched the doorway for Max's entrance. O.C. gave Alec a wordless shrug, which he pretended not to notice. When it became painfully obvious the equivalent wasn't coming yet, he had fallen back into his usual humor. Except this time, he was perceptibly brewing some self-satisfied anger.  
  
Minette, on the other hand, was unusually punctual, even early. She sashayed across the room to a certain unresponsive X-series. She had heard to news of the latest sparring, and was simply gleaming at the chance to play the sympathetic ear. Cindy rolled her eyes. The big man himself had to stifle a bit of a growl when she swept through the door. An astonished Cindy glanced at Josh, "Yo Big Boo, why did you invite the heifa?"  
  
"Didn't want to," Josh said. "Inviting Max and Alec, and then - Bang! - there is Minette. Be rude not to invite her." He paused for a moment when an unexpected concept hit him. "Does she want to 'get busy' with Alec?"   
  
O.C. nearly dropped her banner. "Dang, Big Boo! It took you that long to figure it out?" Off of Joshua's sheepish shrug, she patted him empathetically on the arm. "Joshua," she said. "Max and Alec..."  
  
"They care for each other." Joshua finished ardently. "Family."  
  
"Yeah, Big Boo," Cindy sighed. "I just wish they knew themselves how much."  
  
"Max and Alec only fool Max and Alec."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"They're scared to care. The more they fuse, the more they explode. But they only fool them. Minette knows, Logan knows, everyone knows."  
  
Cindy nodded in appreciation. "That's deep."  
  
If only dog-boy could blush. He needed to be complimented more often; his insight earned it. Some people, on the other hand, needed a reality smack them upside the head; but a smack down put everyone in this thorny position. O.C. would settle for a light tap for now.   
  
And the "tap" had walked through the door right at that moment, unaware of both sets of eyes boring into her. She hunted down both of her mentors, who were still actively chatting it up. She was just arriving to their side, when Joshua stealthily elbowed Original Cindy to warn her. Max pretended not to notice. After receiving the formal party welcome, Joshua threw his arms around Max in an unbreakable bear hug and lifted her feet off the floor. Max cheerfully embraced him too, and planted an innocent kiss on his forehead.  
  
Across the room, Alec's eyes flashed. Not that Cindy was looking for a reaction or anything.   
  
Minette was still vainly trying to catch hot-boy's interest. She was so far unproductive; no amount of cleavage, booty-shaking, or seductive tones were catching his eye tonight. Something had finally caught his awareness; Minette could see the light in his eyes. Only it wasn't desire, not fully anyway. He was pissed, for lack of better term. Very pissed, somewhat wanting, and a little vulnerable Alec was not a good combination for Minette when his attention wasn't focused on her more deserving self. Minette didn't even have to circle around; only one woman could make this soldier that heated.   
  
Maybe it would be better to watch the game from the sidelines...this half.  
  
Original Cindy was more than a little worried; Minette actually stepping off was not only bizarre, it was shifty. Most likely she would become a vulture, circling around the outside until it was time to swoop in for the kill. It was a tactical maneuver, not a considerate one.  
  
Alec was still scratching the back of his left palm furiously. He'd been doing that ever since lunch today.   
  
Hmm.  
  
*****  
  
Logan had known Max was there by the time she had been through the doorway.   
  
He had been watching Alec, who was uncharacteristically stormy. That slutty chick - Minnie? Mickey? Oh well, whatever her name was - was being more than ignored. She didn't exist; that, more than all the other news that day disturbed Logan the most. Joshua had been kind enough to tell the computer-whiz of the recent mishap between the duo, most likely to tip him off NOT to engage Alec in any sort of way. And judging by the steam rolling out of Alec's ears, engagement would be breathing within 20 feet of the X5.  
  
Alec was always more than willing to toy with the dazzling Min...M-chick. But now he was in the middle of the party, and he had yet to turn his ears towards one of her vapid phrases. He hadn't flirted, touched her arm, or even acknowledge her presence. THAT made Logan uneasy. Almost back in a soldier-mode, Alec was harmony with his DNA; the cat in him was waiting for some unsuspecting prey to settle herself within the groove of the party. Then, when she least wary of an attack, he'd pounce. Hard.  
  
Unfortunately, Alec's reckless prey and Logan's date were embodied in the same female waif. Maybe if Logan got to her first, he could play a Haven of some sort; help Max avoid the Plunge.   
  
So, by the time Joshua had actually allowed Max to support herself on her own two feet, Logan was huddled on her side. Well, as huddled as one could be if he died from a stray touch. Hopefully, Alec would read between the lines and get the picture. But their lives and this "picture" were Surreal-Abstract art, constantly open to everyone's personal rationalization. And judging by the way Alec's glower deepened as Logan made his path through the maze of not-quite human bodies, Alec's interpretation wasn't constructive. Not by Logan's definition of constructive, anyway.  
  
"Hey Max," he tried to casually greet.  
  
Oblivious to the looming tempest that she was caught in the midst of, she lightly bounced back a "Hey" of her own.  
  
Logan could feel the daggers painfully plunging into his back in systematic and clean motions. Alec must have been thoroughly incensed. Watching his nerve quickly flee away, Logan didn't bother to recognize the other man's presence. After Max had merrily greeted all of her friends, he steered her towards the kitchen, away from Alec's intrusive eyes.  
  
"Max," he said. "I haven't seen much of you lately, what have you been up to?"  
  
"Nothing much," Max responded, feeling too joyous to be bogged down by weighty conversation. Talking to Logan always seemed to lead to weighty conversation. Orphans' mistreatment in Chicago, prostitution in the Bronx, playful banter always seemed to circle back to the idealism where all men, women, transgenics, and anteaters were created equal.   
  
Not that she wasn't guilty of intensely gray discourses herself. Between directing transgenics and a we're-not-like-that-but-we-kinda-are-except-for-a-genetically-engineered-virus-boyfriend, Max no longer had time for the more trivial. The less problematic questions like, "What did the Egyptians use to make the Sphinxes so durable?" or "Why are polish and Polish spelled the same yet pronounced so differently?" or even "Why is the line outside the boys' restroom always shorter than the one outside the girls'?"   
  
Too make a long story short, Max felt too bubbly-jittery tonight to have conversation that actual could mean something. Some dark premonition kept dangling over her head; Max felt that if she could just keep the conversation light, she just might bypass some cataclysmic squall.  
  
Tonight's forecast: "A raging storm is rushing into the Great Northwest. It has been advised to take cover."  
  
*****  
  
Alec was angry...no, fuming...no, no, no...livid. Alec was teeth-gnashing, wounded-pride, up-in-arms pissed.  
  
Now that sounded right. It even had a little bit of a ring to it.  
  
Now, if you asked the boy why he was so teeth-gnas...uh...upset, you'd earn yourself a permanent indentation of his knuckles on your cheek. Alec didn't know why, he just was.   
  
It wasn't because he was actually injured by her blow today at Jam Pony. It wasn't because Logan was her certified fifth limb tonight. And it certainly wasn't because Max had been here for over three hours and forty-six minutes and the sniping wife had yet to acknowledge that yes, Alec was in fact alive.   
  
Maybe it was that time of the month again. Scientific studies confirmed that guys PMSed too.  
  
Every instinct screamed for Alec to go in and throttle the girl. His Manticore upbringing itched for it, almost as badly as the back of his left hand. He looked over towards the kitchen, where Max, Mony and Dix were laughing over some joke. Just because she was gorgeous didn't mean...  
  
...Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back the tank up...GORGEOUS?!? Where did that come from?  
  
Forget it. It didn't matter anymore. That little blunder was the straw that broke this camel's back. He was through with the games. He furiously pushed his way through the bustling crowd, unmindful of the stunned friends and strangers he was mowing down.  
  
He and Max needed to have a little heart-to-heart.   
  
Now.  
  
*****  
  
Max's eyes strayed from Dix to Mony and back to Dix in a comprehensive fashion. Dix was too far gone in the telling of some amusing anecdote about the early gladiators to see the continuous and silent exchange in between the female counterparts. The women exchanged the "knowing smiles". Mony blushed and demurely smiled. Then she glanced up behind Max. Alec was driving his way through the dense crowd, his eyes glued dangerously on Max's barcode.   
  
"...And the last gladiators were left..."  
  
"Uh, Dix, querida," Mony interrupted, a nervous smile crossing her angelic face. "Maybe you and I should go talk to Luke. He seems awfully lonely."  
  
"I'm almost done Mony." Dix replied steadily.  
  
Max was distractedly saying farewells to Gem and her boyfriend CJ, suddenly oblivious to her present company and the predator haphazardly swerving in behind her. Mony, being the quick-thinking female, used Max's diversion to deftly elbow her boyfriend in the stomach and jerk her chin in Alec's direction. She and Dix needed to clear the general vicinity by the time the storm hit; and judging by his quickening pace they needed to move - pronto - in order to take cover.   
  
Dix caught the subtle hint. "Uh, Max," he started, catching her attention once again. "We're going to go talk to Luke. He seems awfully...uh..."  
  
"Lonely!" came the hiss in his ear.  
  
"Lonely!" Dix echoed, loudly and entirely too earnestly. Pleasantries aside, Mony and Dix dove for cover.  
  
Max started to shrug nonchalantly when a hand clamped down on her shoulder.  
  
"We need to talk," came the dark whisper in her ear.  
  
Max circled around in slow motion. The air was reverberating with thunderclouds and the distinct scent of imprisoned electricity. It didn't take a Manticore genius to know the storm was going to hit; remorselessly, relentlessly, and on top of her.  
  
Where was an umbrella when a body needs one?  
  
*****  
  
Alec watched Max turn painstakingly slow, which only grated on his already abrasive nerves. "Now," he commanded. He wasn't to be trusted; a war raged in his eyes while his tone was deceptively low. Never, ever, a good combination.  
  
"Alec, not right n..."  
  
"Yes, Max." His voiced raised an angry notch. "Right. Now."  
  
"People are staring," Max hissed. Indeed, several ordinary and extra-ordinary friends of Joshua's had turned to see what the commotion was about.  
  
"I. Don't. Care." He said it succinctly, not to be swayed. He straightened, let his body seemingly relax, while pushing all the already coiling tension further inside. If he didn't get her out of here now, it was going to get ugly in front of a lot of witnesses. "Let's talk outside, shall we?" he said, his voice brighter.   
  
The change in tone could have been comforting, with the exception that in order for Alec to make his pitch lighter, his pupils darkened and contracted even further.   
  
*****  
  
Logan watched the fire start, feeling like all he had to offer in opposition was a tiny toy bucket. But he'd use anything he had to protect Max from the ever-stoking flames. When Alec seized her arm tightly, he was ready to defend his lesser Maxie from the overgrown playground bully.   
  
Original Cindy laid a solemn hand on his arm. She wasn't going to let him leave the sandbox and head for the dizzying heights of the jungle gym.   
  
"Don't," she commanded. "Max has had this coming along time."  
  
Logan could build sandcastles that would make any toddler proud, but the monkey bars were just beyond his grasp.   
  
A defeated little boy glanced down at his hands. With seven small words, O.C. had put a sizeable hole in his plastic bucket.  
  
*****  
  
"I don't want to go outside with you," Max said, less confident and unsure of the beast before her. The hand and her arm gripped even tighter in a subconscious response. He smiled tersely, praying to every known deity that he could get her away before he did something stupid.  
  
"I am not arguing with you, Maxie," he calmly said. "I am ordering you."  
  
"No!" she exclaimed. By this time, everyone was watching; from a safe distance, of course.  
  
"Last chance," he warned.  
  
"No!" she exclaimed again, turning to walk away.   
  
A shriek sounded across the house. With a sheer athletic grace that would make any female heart swoon, Alec let go retrieved Max's wrist again, pulled her back into his chest, wrapped his other arm around her thighs, and swung her over his shoulder. Storming towards the door as if his bundle weighed nothing, Alec barked out a loud, "Happy Birthday Josh!" and slammed the door behind him.   
  
Original Cindy and Joshua traded tiny conspiratorial smiles across the room.  
  
*****   
  
Max had been in shock for the first block and a half of her jarring ride, courtesy of Alec's broad shoulder. When she had her wits again and fully took in her undignified position, she began to holler and pound on Alec's back, desperate for anyway down. It was all to no avail though. Who'd of thought that an extra ten years could teach a soldier how to make an indestructible "potato-sack" carrying position?  
  
Amazingly enough, the walk was actually doing Alec some good. Was he still pissed? You can bet your butt on that. But at least he could see straight by now, and colors weren't so fuzzy any longer. Alec looked ahead for a place to "talk". Oh, a park. Absolutely perfect.  
  
Crossing the threshold, Alec let his package roll off of his shoulder. With a muffled yelp, Max slammed to the ground. Within the two seconds it took her to rise to her feet, Alec had sprinted fifty yards away. He still needed to cool down, run off his anger, before he could face her without worrying if he'd just kill her and be done with it.  
  
Max, stupidly, wasn't going to let him take that little breather. Fully riled, she took off after him. After several yards, she delivered a solid quarterback sack. Much to her amazement, the bastard wasn't even fully on the ground before he'd flipped her under him. Realizing she was pinned and suddenly terrified, Max began to claw at him. His face, his arms it didn't matter; he was more wrathful than he'd ever been. A downright murderous gleam had found his eyes. It took her until that precise moment to realize it. It was too late now though, Alec had slammed her wrists painfully against the ground, locking them inside one of his unyielding hands. Using his other hand, he gripped her chin painfully forcing her to look into his eyes.  
  
She was petrified. Good; so was he. Alec stared into her eyes, his own completely blank. Max swallowed convulsively several times, her chest rhythmically pounding against his in their mutual gasp for the thick air.  
  
"Alec," she began plaintively, searching for the man she married. He wasn't there; she was lying completely vulnerable underneath 494.   
  
"No," the soldier rasped. "I talk now." A prolonged silence ensued, while 494 tried to reclaim his humane side.   
  
"You treat me like dirt all these years. It's partially my own fault; I take your crap and keep on coming back. But no more, Maxie. No more." Alec was coming back; his eyes kept glittering with some obscure passion. "I want more from you. I have respected you, Max. I want some back."  
  
"I do respect you, Alec."  
  
"BULL!" Alec yelled down at her, smashing her wrists in the ground another time.   
  
"You treat me like dirt. I am dirt. I know that. And every time I think I am cleaning myself out the tiniest bit, you come back and dump another load on me. No more." He was serious; Max felt herself soften as waves of shame washed back and forth over her steadily. She had hurt him more than he'd ever admitted. Probably didn't want to admit she had the power to. Both Max and Alec had preferred to think of him as stone, impervious and stable. But he was neither; he was flesh and blood.   
  
And he could feel that blood rising in more than one way. Her still gasping beneath him, looking vulnerable, hair splayed didn't help matters much.  
  
Max couldn't put into words just how repentant and guilty she felt. THIS is what Alec felt with Rachel. Well, partly. She could at least try to apologize though. "Alec," she started. "I am so very sor.."  
  
A warm hand clamped tightly over his mouth. Tortured, he whispered fervently, "Shut up, Max." His palm rotated, leaving her lips under his thumb. Alec looked down towards his appendage.   
  
Big Mistake. Not thinking clearly, Alec did something he had unknowingly wanted to do since Max had first kicked him in the stomach in her cell back at Manticore.  
  
"For once in your life just shut up."  
  
Two illogical lips slammed against hers. Max's eyes widened in surprise before they crashed shut. Her mouth opened in protest when his tongue skillfully snaked in to wage war with hers. One of Alec's hands grasped her hair tightly in defiance, pushing her face towards a better slant. His other hand craved the curve of her back, pushing her up against his chest. Two wounded soldiers moaned. The kiss was forceful, chaotic, and turbulent.  
It was sloppy and proficient. Lips nipped at each other, too surreal to not be real. Life had distorted and inexplicably became clearer than ever. He was punishing her; but in this case, she didn't feel like fighting against the justice system.   
  
Alec felt himself becoming lost. He had been starving for over six years. A bittersweet terror washed over him, a fear that if he let go now, this willing feast would disappear. But another panic stained, he suddenly felt unfit to dine at this table. He was stealing food from someone...a small contented whimper from Max and a tightened hand in his own hair made him suddenly not care. Steal what you can and run like Hell when you're caught.  
  
But the host came back, complete with glasses, a keyboard, and an exoskeleton.  
  
Logan.   
  
Just as quickly as the lips descended on her, they pulled away. Max lay there silently, with the exception of her gasping for air. Hazily Max opened her eyes. Sitting up slowly, dazedly, Max's eyes caught a body next to her. Realization hit her in a painful blow.   
  
She had just kissed her husband.   
  
Her husband was Alec, the guy she married to stay in Seattle.   
  
With Logan.  
  
*****  
  
After rolling off of her in such an abrupt fashion, Alec had contented himself to lie down next to her. Contented, Alec's mind scoffed at the thought. He wanted more. He could steal more.  
  
Max was scuffling next to him, probably pushing herself into an upright position. He closed his eyes tightly, fighting off the demons. It was no use, he could still conjure up an image of her: cheeks flushed, hair in disarray, bleary-eyed, swollen-lips...  
  
Alec heard a man groan in the distance. It was probably him, he couldn't tell. The blood was still pounding in his ears. A feminine hand touched his hair.  
  
Up like a rocket, Alec completely regained his fleeting senses. "Don't touch me Max," he hoarsely begged. If she touched him again, he was through. Max slowly got to her feet, as if her body was boneless. He watched her; a desire stronger than physical and much safer unnamed, assailed him again.  
  
The soldier was weak. The thief had been ensnared by his own conscience. So he did what any self-respecting soldier, thief, or man would do in his present situation.  
  
  
He ran. Hard and Fast.  
  
*****  
  
Alec would never know his temporary wife had forgiven him every sin he'd committed.  
  
Max would never know an interim husband had absolved her of murder.  
  
*****  
  
No one had a clue what Fate held in the palm of her hand.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Final A/N: I know there were a lot of mistakes in this section. But I was so excited to put it up, I just couldn't wait. Thank you for bearing it patiently. 


	10. Lost and Found

Disclaimer: I bought all the rights to DA this week. Yup, I have the tattered receipt in my back pocket even as we speak.  
  
A/N: I'm late, I know. I hate it when writers think they can just blow off a story for weeks at a time. It's shorter than the last chapter also, lo siento. My apologies. Don't worry, I have already given myself 40 lashes...with a wet noodle. It broke on the third lash, but who's really counting anyway. Not you! Heck, I'd be surprised if your still reading this stupid A/N thingy...I wouldn't be. ; )  
  
  
  
  
"Joshua!" Alec bellowed out, his voice ringing against the walls of the house. Joshua looked up from his edition of "The National Inquirer" at the call of his name.   
  
Last night's party had been a hit. But after Alec and Max's graceful departure, everyone made excuses to leave. A few stayed behind, including Original Cindy, to help clean the place up. O.C. seemed to be caught most of the time. She just couldn't decide on whether to tell the Big Fella he could throw a party to make anyone proud, apologize for the abrupt ending of it, or a conspiring talk between the two of them. She had several scenarios about the goings on between the "lovers". So naturally she did all three. Some of the possibilities still bounced around in Joshua's head a couple of weeks later. So logically he was enthused to hear the truth from an eyewitness. The other Three Musketeers were gone for awhile on a gun/literature/girlfriend hunt, leaving the perfect time for a heart to heart.   
  
Alec rushed into the living room, crashing on the couch with all the grace of a dying armadillo. "Serious problem, Josh," he began. Rolling into a ball and burrowing his face into a pillow, the victim moaned pathetically. A muffled explanation managed its way from the tiny space between his face and the pillow all the way over to Joshua's chair. The elder transgenic had to have heard wrong.   
  
"I'm sorry, Alec," he began. "Did you just say Max...?"  
  
Alec lifted his face from the pillow a couple of inches. "... kisses a lot better than she cooks," he finished, even more defeated the second time, if K9 DNA wasn't mistaken. "A LOT better," he said strongly.   
  
Launching to his feet, Alec retold the whole story in zealous detail. His anger. Her fear. Her hands on his chest. The taste of her lips. Her whimpering for more. No point was left untouched. What had taken less than fifteen minutes to destroy ended up taking a good hour to recap.   
  
Joshua watched him carefully, wanting to compare notes with O.C.'s version of the story later. Alec's face was flushed, his hands moved about in erratic motions. He was worked up, and it seemed only his therapist could understand his torment.   
  
And understand Joshua did, more than Alec even.   
  
"What are you going to do?" Joshua asked carefully. This comment cut his friend short; he shrugged his shoulders helplessly.   
  
Oh yes, Joshua understood. He would feel the same way if he were in Alec's shoes. He wouldn't know what to do either after falling in love for the second time.   
  
Especially if he didn't know about it yet.  
  
*****  
  
Watching the rain pellets splatter against the window, Logan let out a muffled sigh of discontentment. Max had stealthily avoided him for over two weeks. No stopping by to see how he was holding up during their strained lapse in a "nonexistent" relationship. No hanging out at Crash with her inner-sanctum of lowlife, minimum wage goofballs. No familiar ring of the telephone, when Logan could hear the swaggering "Hittin' ya back" drawled on the other end of the line. Not even a message to say, "Hey Logan, I dropped off the edge of the planet. Just checkin' to make sure you know the latest." Or the even less likely, "I decided that underneath Alec's petulant, reckless, and immature facade there lies a compassionate and sensitive soul of a tortured artist...and I'm pregnant. CLICK."  
  
Nada. Zilch. Zero.  
  
Even Original Cindy had been avoiding him lately. Now that was something. Max's personal guru was not a woman who would beat around the bush under any circumstances. Unless of course the earth had fallen off her axis. She was the type who took the utmost pride in her innate ability to tell the truth "straight up". And yet, she hadn't looked him straight in the eye for over 14 days. Hmm.  
  
But the biggest thrill of the entire psychotic flock was the normally unflinching husband. Logan, in yet another vain attempt to locate the elusive Max, had stumbled across Alec at Crash. He was in his usual spot at the bar, drinking his usual scotch, attracting the usual flock of gorgeous girls. But he was unusually blank...or lost in his own fight to achieve the ever-dodging state of blankness. He didn't acknowledge anybody, even the occasional daring lass who had "crashed" into him.   
  
Logan had covertly watched Alec for over an hour. The chicks came and went trying to leave some sort of mark on the mysterious recluse. Not a dent. He didn't look left or right, just stared straight ahead of him. Alec was completely lost in the nonexistent movie, playing itself out in front of his face. His face flashed between anger, wonder, and loss. The hand would go from being completely slack to clenching the glass to the fine point of shattering it and back to slack within the flash of an eye.  
  
The soldier was engrossed in his mission, analyzing and interchanging scenarios. With the target obviously locked at a crossroads of sorts, it finally dawned on the mole. He was thinking about Max. Only one girl could confuse this rebel that much. Logan had almost laughed out loud at the realization. He played detective at Crash for over an hour, surrounded by beer breath and pulsating beats not even close to musical, all to understand that Alec was reflecting on Max. It would have been hilarious, the utter waste of precious time and energy, if it wasn't for the undeniable fact that throughout his invisible drama, Alec kept fiddling with the wedding band on his hand.   
  
Which had led the older man to this point. Stooped shoulders, unseeing eyes, and cozily enveloped in a general air of discontentment. He sighed yet again. Then he heard it, or actually sensed it.   
  
Someone was in his apartment.   
  
After several years with Max's unannounced drop ins, Logan had learned a heightened sense of awareness. The air strummed, bouncing off the walls. Yup, someone was certainly in his apartment, and not trying too hard to conceal their visit. Naturally light footsteps danced across the kitchen floor. Logan didn't even bother to turn around, smiling when he felt a pair of vigilant eyes fall on his figure.   
  
It was about time Max had come and visited him. He was ready to turn around, the epitome of pleased welcome when he heard a muffled voice ring out, "Top o' the mornin'." A male voice. A certain pain-in-the-butt, scheming...  
  
"Not even a hello, Logan? Is it menopause again?" he heard from behind him. Tense, Logan turned to face the intruder.  
  
Alec. Complete with the shrewd smile and always-relaxed stance leaning insolently against the wall.   
  
"What are you doing here?" he asked brusquely. No bothering with pleasantries. Sitting down with a stifled huff in a slightly frayed chair, Logan sized up his competition. Maybe before it would have been merely an estranged friendship, a mutual respect. Matters had always been taut between the two. Slight animosities had always lit up between them, which could usually be traced back to the Jewel caught between the rivals. The "estranged friendship" was being pulled even more taut when Max entered into the equation.  
  
Logan had never really considered the other man as competition. Zack had been competition with a passion, obviously captivated in the spell Max had unwittingly placed on him. Men had come and gone, none of them seriously catching the apple of her eye.   
  
Then here waltzes in a rival for her affections. An irregular player he was indeed.   
  
~*~  
  
Alec was the worst kind of competition. He had the most potential, holding the most - and best - cards, but he says he doesn't want to play poker. He'd lost before, and it cost him his shirt and left him in the rain. He sits in the back of the saloon, watching all the pseudo-cowboys lose hand after hand. Contestants drop. Stakes rise higher and the smug Frontrunner shines through.   
  
Alec sits at the bar, watching the game out of the corner of his eye. He genuinely doesn't want to play, shaking his head at the pathetic bunch. It wasn't worth their time or money. Nevertheless, he watches the Stakes grow, and her appeal shines through. Almost worth the risk. As Alec watches the game, the fever strikes him also. Hot and turbulent. The pressure, the need to play, fight for an opportunity, and the slim odds of actually winning makes him forget the draw towards keeping his hard-earned cash. Finally, Inhibitions drop at the foot of the bar. He modestly makes his way across the crowded room, eyes never leaving Stakes.   
  
At the peak of the game, Alec humbly asks to join the game for a hand or two. The Frontrunner boastfully tells him to pull up a chair. Even now, in the midst of his own personal fervor, he bets modestly. It was smarter to test the water, decide it was too cold, and pull out than to dive off the cliff yet again and drown. But as he watches Stakes rise impossibly high, he loses the need to play safe. The risk was definitely worth the trouble.   
  
Then, of course, the bastard cleans house. Riding off into the sunset with the Stakes' arms draped around his waist, the Frontrunner is left high and dry.  
  
~*~  
  
Logan shuddered at his too potent imagery. He had to lay off the cowboy movies. That and Shakespeare. He focused his attention back on the cowboy who, within the last ten seconds of Logan's traitorous notions, had made his way across the living room and sat on the couch. Finally arranged "comfortably", Alec decided he had to open up the conversation.  
  
"Got your message."   
  
Oh yes. "The message was meant for Max." That would explain the unwanted visit. But it didn't explain the stress belied by his cozy position, the constant movement of some limb. Something had definitely happened the night of Joshua's party.   
  
"True, but you said it was a two-person job."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Who'd you think she'd take?" an incredulous Alec asked. "Cindy...no, no, no. Sketchy, right? I mean he's got extensive training in the armed forces, if you count the times he sold his body to military science."  
  
"What I meant," a baited Logan began. "Was that she might want to take someone else. Mony, for example."  
  
"Logan," Alec began testily, oddly tired of mind games. He stood up and crossed towards the computer room. "For the past five years, missions have gone the best when both Max and I do them together." Logan, always being the bigger man, overlooked the heavy emphasis on the word "together". Alec didn't mean it to sound the way it did, but the thought still grated on his nerves. "I just dropped by to pick up the information, OK?"  
  
Not daring to ask why Max wasn't there also, Logan gave a frustrated Alec a quick rundown. Alec guffawed. "So, we go in, pick up the gas, get out. Uh huh, definitely a two-person job. I mean, it's not like the average Rent-A-Cop couldn't pull the job or anything."  
  
Logan's temper flared at the insult, so much for being the bigger man. "Did I mention," he gritted. "That the gas is toxic?"  
  
"So I'll hold it really close to me," Alec fired back. He comically mimicked the motion, dramatically cradling his arms to his chest.  
  
"A leak could do some serious damage."   
  
"Permanent or temporary?"  
  
"Temporary," Logan quietly bit off.   
  
"How bad?"  
  
"Fever," Logan began. "Nausea, seizure, heavy vomiting, delusions, et cetera."  
  
"Contagious?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Hospitalization?"  
  
"Not necessarily."  
  
"Oh," a rebellious Alec said. "The usual, huh?"  
  
Logan seethed under the younger man's criticisms. Sensing he had crossed some forbidden line, Alec bid a quick goodbye and left as quietly as he had come, already formulating his plans.   
  
Logan's scowl deepened. Okay, so the cowboy had decided to try his luck at the poker table. He was putting money down, but not betting as heavy as he could...yet. Logan prayed for a miracle. Nothing to demanding, just that the five "bad" cards Alec had would show up in his hand for seven or eight rounds. Back to back would be preferable. Even the transgenic's stamina would run out by then.   
  
Logan needed a miracle; God knows his personal stash of options were depleted.  
  
*****  
  
"So, what do you think Doggy-Dog?" Cindy asked worriedly. "It took Max two weeks to tell Original Cindy this much, Max normally doesn't bottle like this. One kiss would be bad enough, but two?"  
  
"Two?" The dog-human's ears perked at the new piece of information. "Alec only said..."  
  
"He doesn't know about the other one," O.C. interrupted him fussily. Joshua tilted his head in a question posed at the other counselor, but she was already busily formulating her own questions and doing her best to answer them with the little information she had. Off of his blank stare, she cautiously divulged the other kiss. Josh merely shook his head.  
  
Another guilty silence swamped the already turbulent pair. Meticulously destroying her new manicure while trying to digest her fingers, Cindy glanced around Joshua's house uncomfortably. She really shouldn't be here. She should be at work, making sure Sketchy didn't catch his hair on fire while demonstrating the power of a spark and a can of hairspray. But that wasn't what had her destroying her hard-earned and finely polished nails. Part of her felt like she was destroying the confidence of sisterhood. When a girl comes to you with her problems, you just do not go and discuss the situation with a male, even if he was part man's best friend. Which was probably part of the problem, he WAS "man's best friend". A particular male.  
  
A sudden peek in Joshua's direction told her he seemed to be feeling the same prickly vibes. The two shared small smiles, no longer conspiratorial, but rather glum. Reality was steadily settling herself in. Their friends were just too tough and too stubborn to come to terms serenely. No, those two would fight Fate until the end.  
  
A quick hug and shared good-byes ensued. Josh turned back towards the basement, ready to help Dix in more research on a potential tenth planet. Cindy headed en route to Jam Pony, prepared to pull Sketchy's head from a toilet. Throughout the rest of the day, in the midst of Mole's swearing and Normal's yelling, they both came to one solid and sobering conclusion.   
  
If those two wouldn't find each other, they'd probably die looking for the answer right in front of their noses.  
  
*****  
  
Max was weary. Done in, worn out, dead on your feet tired. After finally exposing almost classified information of "Operation: Been Kissed" and being followed around the entire day by Sketchy's usual antics, Normal's melodious bellows, and O.C.'s ever probing eyes, Max was sick of everything.   
  
Grabbing a much-cherished cup of coffee, Max curled her fingers around it, relishing its steady heat. At least some things, like the spiritual healing power of coffee, never changed. She made her way towards her sanctuary, her room, with a relieved sigh. Unmanageable thoughts had dominated her for too long. Settling into her bed, Max prepared herself for a night of complete relaxation and blankness.   
  
Enter Fate, stage left.  
  
Max snapped out of her reverie of rare calmness with a jolt. Another loud thud banged against the locked door, even more desperate the second time. Swearing under her breath, she made her way to the door, throwing it open with a muffled, exasperated shriek. Was it too much to ask for...?   
  
Just when she was going to lay into her intruder, a body heavily slammed into hers, succeeding in both knocking the wind out of Max and flooring her in the process. Slightly wheezing and fully enraged, it took the greater part of ten seconds to realize the body on top of hers was none other than Alec's.  
  
And convulsing rather painfully. What the...?  
  
All the while mindful of his obvious pain, Max never the less moved with a delicate hustle. In half a flash, Max had managed to pick up Alec's body and lug him into the nearest bedroom: hers. She laid him down on the bed and proceeded a quick check-up. After several moments of intense observation and stammered half-explanations from the aching half-wit husband, she was somewhat pleased to realize he wasn't, in fact, dying.  
But even as sheer relief fell across the curves of her face and down to the rest of her body, an angst-ridden rage seeped its way up her torso starting at her toes.   
  
So Max unconsciously decided to do what she would have done in any other situation: hit Alec. Her palm was inches away from contact when she saw Alec's eyes: pleading, desperate, and already in pain. Shocked at her own unintentional reaction, she quickly followed his next shaky command and made her way across the apartment like a tight end holding the winning touchdown. Dodging tackle after tackle, formerly known as the TV and couch, Max raced into the end zone, hastily dialing the familiar phone number.  
  
  
"Hello," a male voice said.  
  
"Logan, what do I do with Alec?" Max asked.   
  
We must forgive men of the fact that their brains are more dense. Had Max called Original Cindy, for example, she would have understood by the sheer tone of Max's voice that quite obviously Alec was lying in a shriveled and shuddering version of the fetal position. Plus the fact that she was a lesbian, which gave her further study into the female psyche, Cindy would have comprehended the entire dire situation before she even picked up the phone.   
  
But alas, Logan was a male, and their species always thought on a more "rational" level. Things are more logical and less controlled by unpredictable mood swings. While one moment a woman is laughing, the next moment she is crying. While one moment a man is laughing, the next moment he is...still laughing over the same inane joke. This male psyche - unable to change as rapidly as the female psyche - multiplied by his brooding mood, left a very perplexed Logan. While Original Cindy would be half way to Max's house, Logan was going through numerous possible scenarios that could involve the infamous Alec.   
  
Too make a long story short, Logan was confused. "What do you mean, 'What do I do with Alec?'"  
  
Max, predictably, let out a yet another muffled shriek and did the childish action of stomping not only one, but both feet. She exasperatedly explained the situation, all the while cursing men and their lack of understanding of important subtleties.   
  
"Nothing," Logan said at the end of her presentation.  
  
"What do you mean NOTHING?!?!"  
  
"Max calm down," Logan began, all the while making soothing gestures with his hands even though the enraged bull couldn't see them. "He'll be fine. It's only temporary. Just do the regular stuff. Give him juice, keep him warm...you know, the regular stuff. Alec WON'T die. He'll be back to his usual hot-tempered self within a couple days. Unless of course, you leave him to dehydrate or throw him in a freezer for a few hours."  
  
The shrill drone of the dial tone voiced Max's obvious displeasure at the ill-time joke.  
  
*****  
  
Alec, on the other hand, believed he really was dying. He could taste the bile rising in his throat again. Hadn't he thrown up enough in the past three or four eternities? "Only temporary," Alec managed to mimic Logan in his throbbing head. Yeah right. All Alec did was take a couple deep breaths of a noxious, secret-government gas, and his body's usual strength had retreated him. All this pain was a little harsh of a punishment, wouldn't ya say?   
  
Purgatory had better watch out, the latest convert was just stepping through the boundary between the worlds. Even a swiftly failing Alec had to smile at the jest, even if it held all the energy of a dead battery. Purgatory wasn't necessary, even this convict knew he was firmly bound by the chains of Hell. He could hear a demon doing the role call, as another wave of pangs and frailties crashed against his rapidly crumbling rock, his rapidly crumbling strength. The soft feathers of the pillow beneath his head were ebbing away, as the heat of Hell expanded and covered everywhere from the tip of his toes to his parched lips and beyond. He heard his name called again and again, until the tone resonated in his flittering heart.  
  
"Alec...Alec...Alec..." That timbre sound familiar.  
  
Go figure, even the pits of Hell couldn't be an ironical sanctuary from the relentless grasp of Max.   
  
Suddenly, another blissful and unending abyss began to cloud his vision, starting at the bottom of his brain and sneaking its way through the neurons on the never ending secret highways in his mind. Like a secret drug cartel, the void made its way bit by bit across the border of consciousness and unconsciousness, temporarily obliterating pain and despair. Only this drug, though more addictive than cocaine or another common street-drug, gave a more supreme high than cheap narcotics for this troubled soul: Oblivion. He knew he should fight it, but his body craved it, until the "drugs" took over his frenzied brain and shut it down. Alec gratefully let go of the wheel. He'd need all the strength he could save.  
  
The worst was yet to come. Fate had only begun to deal her hand.  
  
*****  
  
"Alec...Alec...Alec..." each calling became a little more desperate. Dying or not, his pain was piercing an unusually sympathetic soul.  
  
"Alec..."  
  
"Max." Two voices, one primitive and gruff, the other cultured and street-wise, intertwined to try and call back their friend from her own cosmos. The brunette head snapped up. Two eyes cleared. Her hand released Alec from her soft pressure on his forearm. A quick glance down and Max zipped back to her own world, if only for a few more moments. Her fingers found themselves roving in his hair, damp from sick sweat. Then the moist fingers traced a puckered brow, momentarily sweeping away its crevices. One pained sigh echoed from both the souls on the bed.  
  
"He's gone again," Max said simply, bleak.   
  
"He'll be fine," Original Cindy said.  
  
"I know," Max moaned. "I just can't help but feel..."  
  
"Lost," she finished.  
  
Max managed a weak nod in agreement. By this point in time, Logan had waltzed into the glum bedroom, the essence of unruffled talent, studying his printouts on the gas. Watching the re-entrance, Max's shoulders wilted even further. She quickly cast her eyes back to the source of the problem. "Remind me why we can't take him to the hospital again?" she asked. Cindy crossed the threshold nimbly and laid a tender hand on her shoulder. "You said so yourself boo, it isn't that bad..."  
  
"At least he was coming back to consciousness every few minutes. He's been out for what, an hour?" In the short pause that followed, Max came to a final decision. "I'm calling an ambulance."   
  
This time it was Josh who voiced his opposition. "No, Little Fella," he said steadily. "No. What happens with ambulance? People, ordinaries, think Manticore starts trouble again. It's over Max, but it isn't over. People say they accept us and are still afraid of what is different. Do you think a hospital will treat Alec? No. Tranny deliveries, yes. Bullet wounds, maybe. An undercover gas they don't understand isn't contagious, never. They won't let him within twenty feet of an ambulance, much less the actual hospital. They'll quarantine your apartment and write it all off as 'Those trannies are at it again.' Do you think Alec would want that?"  
  
"No," Max weakly replied.  
  
Logan broke the silence. "Listen," he said. "Even if we could get him to a hospital and they did take him in, there is nothing they can do, especially with a transgenic nervous system. Painkillers wouldn't do any good; the side effects override them. All they could do is give him an I.V. to make sure he didn't dehydrate. His fever should break within the next few couple hours anyway, and it's all downhill from there."  
  
"Alright," she agreed. "We leave him here."  
  
So they did all that they could do for the next few hours: sit and wait. Wait for the fever to break. Wait for signs of consciousness. Wait for a release that never seemed to turn up.   
  
Within the next two hours, Logan had gone home. Original Cindy practically had to push the boy out the door, but he did leave. She sent Joshua to grab some take out. Max hadn't eaten in over ten hours, which couldn't be good on a high-speed metabolism. Giving the older transhuman some money, she closed the door behind him, put her forehead against the door, and let out a gusty sigh. Turning all the ball of her heel, O.C. went back to face Max.  
  
Leaning against the doorway, she assessed her comrade. The girl did not look good. Stressed muscles, a frayed heart, and hunger did not make for an alluring Max. Not in most people's opinion anyway. With lips pressed into a fine line with worry, hair dangling in tangles, and brimful eyes, she'd never looked better. And O.C. would make a fair wager that Alec would share the opinion, if he'd only wake up.   
  
After Max had unsuccessfully tried to get Alec to swallow water for the umpteenth time, her nerves snapped. She shot to her feet, slammed the glass down on the table, grabbed the keys to her baby, and was out the door without even an "I'll be back." Cindy of course took the whole situation with intense calm. She dutifully sat on Max's bed, and picked up the offending glass. Placing it to Alec's thirsty lips, she was more than pleased when he took a few small swallows. Placing his head back on the pillow, Cindy seemed to think for a moment. Then, doing a quick double-check to gauge their complete solitude, she impulsively placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. "They say there is a fine line between love and hate, boo," she said. And after taking a quick sip for herself, she finished demurely, "and Original Cindy thinks this marriage is pushing her across the border."   
  
*****  
  
Alright, you know that you're dead when your entire life flashes before your eyes. Only this time, Fate had hit the slow motion button and gave a preview of your life in third person.   
  
Even though he was still unconscious, a bombardment of visions too lifelike to be fantasy began their steady attack on the fragile mind. Alec watched himself complete his first assassination, the flittering loss that flashed over his features before being blockaded by the accepted soldier expression. He watched himself regain a small part of his soul after his first kiss with Rachel, only to be stolen away again by reindoctrination. A car detonated. A gun misfired. A comrade died. Image after image, memory after memory, lapped against his memories like the waves across the shore. It was a torture in and of itself, just when he thought there was a lapse in his crimes and his dashed hopes, another bittersweet surge of recollections threw themselves against his shore. Pushing his past to his feet like unfortunate shells caught in the wrong current, they seemed to dare Alec to stop their chronic tide.  
  
A stiff fell. One night stands tried to push the impression of a certain fiery brunette from his mind. Innocent children cried. Their mothers screamed, trying to cover their brood with their own bodies, quickly transformed into a corpse. How could all of this agony exist in the world? How could Earth not implode herself, do the lesser wrong, end it all now?  
  
Rushes of memories not seized control of Alec's brain. A mother holds her dead son. A teenage girl mourns the loss of an aborted child. Rape victims, orphaned children, street whores. Victim after victim after victim presented their faces to the unwilling voyager, only to shy away, too ashamed by their naked anguish. Why was he privy to all of this? What was the point of him seeing this throbbing? What unearthly being was trying to prove something to him?  
  
In what seemed like eternities, but in all actuality only took a couple of minutes, Alec felt he saw every pained face in the world. Not a splinter was hidden from his view. Every want and need settled themselves in the pit of his stomach churning and burning red hot. How could Earth turn everyday when this colossal weight pulled at her surface?  
  
Then, when all sanity seemed lost, the trance of pain shattered. Alec was thrown back into blackness. The last image weighed on his mind. Just when he was drowning in the quicksand of human sorrow, a hand shot down to pull him out. He couldn't quite remember what it looked like, his vision had been swimming in countless others' tears. But he could remember the distinct feel of it. Even now, the fingers still gripped his palm, offering an otherworldly peace. It felt as if the door was still open, the peace could still be his. Alec shook of the sensation, anything would feel like it offered an "otherworldly peace" when you felt yourself slipping under the burden of human decay. The peace still plagued at him though.   
  
Maybe he wasn't dead after all.  
  
*****  
  
Max had come back, of course. It wasn't as if she were the type to high tail it out of town just because things got a little tough to bear. Joshua had been walking out of "Zhang Ziyi's House of Rice" when he saw Max gunning her black Ninja down the worn street. He flagged her down and she pulled a quick U-turn. They talked for a few minutes, on that grim street-corner, each taking this opportunity to voice the fears that couldn't be cast within the apartment. Feeling lighter, they both hopped on the back of Max's bike and hastened back home.   
  
*****  
  
Original Cindy on the other hand, felt heavier.   
  
Alec was dead.  
  
She could have sworn Alec had known he was going to die. His face contorted and his breaths became shallow. The tension from his body flushed out, and her heart stopped. He was dying. He was dying. No matter what Logan had said, Alec was dying and Max wasn't here to bid him any sort of goodbye. He stopped breathing as if he'd been suffocated. O.C. choked on her own sobs. The bastard had the nerve to die, before Max could even say goodbye. O.C.'s own world crumbled. The man she had known would take care of her boo was dead.   
  
Still unbelieving, she placed her fingers against his throat, desperate for a pulse. Her hand fell away dejectedly.   
  
It was over.   
  
Doubling over with moans of a lost loved one, she practically screamed when she felt a warm hand touch her chin. Her eyes fearfully opened afraid it was just an illusion. The genial hand touching her face wasn't male, wasn't Alec's. Then her eyes met his and both sets were open. His eyes were lucid and had some indiscriminant light shining from them; his face lit up like an angel's. But the most startling thing was the tender peace seeping from his fingertips through her chin and down her body, settling in her heart.  
  
The door to the apartment flung open. Joshua and Max were home; she could hear their playful bickering with her suddenly heightened senses. O.C.'s eyes blinked shut. When, they reopened, Alec was out again. Or maybe he never woke up. O.C. laid a hasty hand against his forehead and nearly sobbed with sheer relief when she realized it was cooler. Much cooler.  
  
"Hey," Max said behind her. "How's he doing?"  
  
"His fever broke," came the weak reply.  
  
"Good. There is food out there, cashew chicken. Feel free to go get some, I'll keep next watch."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Cindy didn't even bother with the kitchen. Going to the bathroom she locked herself in and spun around to sit on the toilet. Desperate for some logical answer and finding none, she finally gave up and convinced herself she had been hallucinating. The lack of food and sleep had gotten to her.   
  
Then she touched her chin.  
  
Alec's peace was still there.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Weird, maybe. Confusing, probably. Cheesy, definitely. Don't worry IF you stick this sucker out until the end, it MIGHT make a bit more sense. Thank you for waiting it out.   
  
I know, I know, I didn't edit it again. I am sorry. I am pressed for time and I was too excited to put it up. I'll do my best to edit the next chapter.  
  
:: TEARS UP:: I just love you guys! 


	11. Like A Virgin

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Don't want to either. (Okay, so I lied.)  
  
A/N: I know, another long sabbatical between chapters. But I just finished up Driver's Ed and marching band, which could do a number on anyone's sanity. Not that the excuses are acceptable, but I just like giving them anyway. :)  
  
  
  
Like A Virgin  
  
  
"Put it out," Max commanded in a fierce murmur. Mole growled in response, his usual glower deepening.   
  
"Now."   
  
Not to anyone's surprise, the lizard just kept sucking on his cigar. Dix, with his usual intuition, decided to intervene with a more "emotional appeal" before Max and Mole had an old fashion WWF brawl, complete with garbage cans and folding chairs, or so the legends went. "Listen, Mole," he interrupted, bodily separating the two transgens, each on the verge of starting WWIV judging by the defiant stares passing between the feuding countries. "Let's have a truce. If you're going to smoke, at least do it in the other room. The aroma can't be good for the guy and if you two start fighting he won't be able to get any sleep...which he needs."  
  
"Fine," came the dry voice. In a slight huff, Mole doused the cigar, oddly resembling a grouchy three year-old.   
  
"Breakfast is ready." Luke quietly dashed into the room, anxious about...well, he always seemed a bit anxious, but at least today he had a viable excuse. He needed to vacate the room of Mole and Max before their rumbling stomachs began another small spat, disturbing the finally peacefully sleeping Alec. On the other hand, he couldn't wake up the invalid in the process. Rounding up the three, he milked the aromas of a home-cooked meal of all their worth to make peace between the tribes. Max and Mole's small tiff about the cigar was quickly forgotten in distinct fragrance off eggs, hash browns, sausage, toast, and fresh-brewed coffee, so flawlessly prepared by Cindy and Luke. Blindly following their noses, the feuding tribes stole a small glance at each other, sharing a small smile.   
  
Original Cindy was right. A thrift store, hot glue, chocolate, or a good meal could solve almost any dilemma.   
  
*****  
  
Using a crowbar, Alec managed to pry open his heavy eyelids. The first glimpse of light shot through his blood-shot pupils, ricocheting around in his vulnerable brain like a demon-possessed boomerang. The vault doors closed forcefully again. Better prepared the second time, Alec tried the whole nauseating concept of "sight" once again. Plan A, just opening his eyes seemed to fail miserably, so he shot for Plan B: blink rapidly. It took a good three minutes before he could blink twice in one second. Exhausted by the efforts, Alec let his mind blank out as his eyes unseeingly honed in on a crack in the ceiling. He concentrated his attention on each part of his body, in quick check to make sure all necessary parts were indeed intact, even if they did seem to be attached by duct tape, rubber cement, and tinsel from old-fashioned Christmas trees.   
  
If it weren't for the awkward weight of Jupiter on his chest, a head full of liquid lead, and the undeniable muscle spasms that left his left arm flailing like a dying fish on the deck, Alec would have felt fine. Peachy, even. But alas, all the aforementioned symptoms had struck, plus a few others left unmentionable due to masculine pride. He didn't feel so hot. Rearrangement would be nice. Maybe some of the lead would flow from his head and weigh down his left arm, if Alec could just get his upper body propped up.   
  
Out of the corner of a bleary eye, he noticed a sleeping form partially sprawled next to his stomach, the chin-length hair thrown in every direction. Max. There was a god. Now, all he had to do was get her attention, also known as waking her up. Simple enough in theory, but more complicated in real life. Yeah, that god that obviously existed seemed to have one warped sense of humor. She was less than a foot away yet it felt like an ocean lay between them. How in the name of Avogadro's Number was he supposed to get her attention? Speaking seemed to be completely out of the question and the only part of his body that seemed to be moving - albeit unwillingly - was his arm.   
  
A light bulb went off in his head, a black light bulb.   
  
With a devious mental smirk, Alec converged all the energy left in his drained body to slowly situate his floundering left arm. It bounced an inch from his body...an inch and a half...two...almost there...perfect. Now that it seemed position to satisfaction he began to rotate his arm until the angle was perfect and his mission was complete.   
  
Thwack!   
  
Alec's wrist bashed into Max's forehead. An annoyed moan seeped from the victim. Alec did manage a slight grin at the sound.   
  
Mission status: Accomplished.  
  
"What the...? Oh." Max was up like a rocket, painfully bouncing the bed in the process. Alec tried to sound out a manly moan, but all he gave was a whimper. Well, at least his vocal cords were starting to work again. "I'm sorry," Max mumbled pitifully. She searched his face vigorously, "Do you need anything? Water? Another blanket?"   
  
'Do you need anything?' Alec thought incredulously. Now despite Alec's aggressive upbringing, he had never considered himself a "violent man". But at this moment he would have given anything to be able to sit up, grab Max by the shoulders and shake her, all the while yelling "Vicodin!" Instead, he settled for a low, rasping, "Up."   
  
Max immediately and - thankfully - gently complied. She sat down lightly next to him, and softly curled one hand around his far shoulder as the other cupped the back of his head and neck. Alec quickly blamed the small shivers on yet another side effect of the gas, not because her pinky had brushed his barcode or anything. Even though Max had slowly, carefully bent his body towards her, it seemed like Alec had instantly found his forehead in the curve of her neck. The fingers on his neck moved to rearrange the pillows behind him. The hand on his shoulder had slowly drifted down and lined up with his suddenly liquid spine, her elbow reached toward the crevice in the small of his damp back while the fingers absentmindedly massaged the area where his back and neck met. Needless to say, coiled against his wife in such an intimate position was probably the most uncomfortable Alec had ever been in his life.   
  
Sex was straight to the point, they even taught the "Art of Seduction" back at good ol' Manticore. One night stands he had no problem detaching his emotions from, grasping at mere physical pleasure and deadening his heart. He was in control then. Being strong and lusted after was empty but flawless. He didn't want to be filled. He didn't want anything. No attachments. No commitments. No nothing.   
  
But this, this...whatever it was, was prickly. Troublesome. Upsetting. It wasn't like lightening had struck him in some deranged epiphany. No, this was worse. Desire, passion, "The Itch" were his friends, his means of survival. His lightening. They burned furious, bright, and fast, then died at the first signs of winter. This, on the other hand, was tender and unrushed. This was what he had been avoiding all of his life, even with Rachel. Like the peace - which he was beginning to question the existence of - this embrace made him want...it just made him want. It made him hungry, starving even. Alec wasn't used to hunger; his soldier facade from Manticore seemed to control his very heart. Ignorance was truly bliss. It was so much easier to cope with emptiness when you didn't realize it could even exist.  
  
It didn't help matters that his still tremulous arm kept bouncing against her welcoming body.  
  
How could he allow himself to be vulnerable in front of the person he needed to be strongest in front of? A few months of marriage to this hellcat were tearing down his strongholds. Absolutely pathetic. The soldier in him would never have allowed this helplessness to exist, much less be shown. How could this diminutive breeze of comfort and caring be more turbulent than moments of passionate tempests?  
  
And most importantly, what was taking Max so long to rearrange three pillows?  
  
Even as the question was forming in his mind, another one of those hands with their merciless chase to steal his better judgment came into contact with his shoulder. Alec's entire upper torso jerked at the contact, partially from being driven from his reverie and partially from fear. Of course, "jerking" was not what his body really wanted to do at the moment, and like the rest of his personality, it was never afraid to voice its complaints. A hiss escaped him. But it was a manly hiss, Alec thought to himself. At least it sounded like it came from a soldier instead of a mushy child. Max hissed with him and she pulled back, but still kept her firm hold on Alec.   
  
"I'm sorry," Max whispered.  
  
"'S okay," Alec managed. At least he was using his neck to support his head now, not hers. But even that seemed to be a bitter victory. And again, he instantly found himself resting against the pillow. This was perfect, at least Max wasn't cradling him anymore.  
  
Or it would've been perfect.   
  
If only Max wasn't laying on top of him, ever so lightly.   
  
To be fair, Alec understood completely how this position had come to be. In her need to lay him down gently her body had overcompensated in a doubly exerted attempt to control his heavier body. It was simple mathematics. But still, her cheek rested against his. Max's hair had this maddening talent for tracing Alec's jaw back to his ear. And to top it all off, Max was breathing, so therefore Alec could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his own.  
  
Oh boy.  
  
It was simple biology, which it seemed even a poisonous gas couldn't really impair. Certain parts of her female anatomy even lightly pressed up against his male anatomy seemed to cause reactions (i.e. heavy breathing, increased heart rate and blood pressure, etc.), especially in his already over-sensitized state of being. Plus the fact that he hadn't been laid in about 4 years.   
  
Needless to say, Alec was once again feeling rather uncomfortable. Or a little too comfortable, however you would prefer to look at it. And the uncomfortable-comfortableness only intensified when Alec sensed Max's own reluctance to pull from the hold.  
  
Oh boy.  
  
After a few pleasurably excruciating minutes for both parties, Common Sense called Max's name.   
  
This was Alec.  
  
Oh.   
  
A nice hefty reality slap ensued. Much to both of their amazements, Max managed to leap out the bed without disturbing the invalid. Even in these dire circumstances, Max managed to be amusing. Alec had to fight back the smirk at the gratifying sight of a flushed-faced, harsh-breathing, jittery, and - most importantly- speechless Max.  
  
'A little too gratifying don't you think?' a tiny voice in the back of his mind sounded. The smirk fell.  
  
"I'm just...gonna...get you some...yeah," Max stammered, flying out of the room.  
  
With a dry chuckle, Alec tried to push the last several minutes' happenings out of his mind. Nevertheless, he drifted off to sleep with the feeling of a soft cheek resting against his, and an uncanny, solid grasp on his hand.  
  
  
*****  
  
"A toast," Sketchy drunkenly said, "to Alec and Max."  
  
"Here, here," Original Cindy agreed, raising her mug in salute with Max.  
  
"May it be my first and last one-year anniversary," Alec joked. Max, in an unusually bright mood, laughed.   
  
The episode of the poisonous gas seemed long past. It was time to celebrate. And where else would true Jam Pony members celebrate than at Crash? Even the Four Musketeers had joined them on the occasion. Although the transhumans usually preferred the basement life, and Crash was normally shady towards Manticore alumni not of the X-series, it seemed both parties had put aside their differences out of a common love for Max and Alec. Not that the party didn't receive odd stares when Mole nearly tackled Luke, or when Dix tried to order a Black Russian in Russian. The transgenic sense of humor seemed lost on the ordinaries.   
  
"God knows no one else could put up with you that long," Max chuckled.  
  
Alec went into his Drama Queen Mode. "Max," he started, the epitome of sincerity, if it weren't for the dancing eyes. "You wound me, truly." He threw a hand over his heart and wiped away an imaginary tear for added effect. "We are talking an unusual loss of confidence here. I just might never be able to dredge up enough self-esteem to seriously date another woman again."  
  
"Well that would be a critical loss for the female population," came the dry reply behind him. Both Max and Alec looked at each other, simultaneously mouthing the word "Minette", silently laughing at their shared thought. Original Cindy of course, merely rolled her eyes, while Sketchy made no attempt to mask his drunken ogling.   
  
"May I sit here?" came the syrupy sweet question. Sketchy, with abnormal inebriated grace of motion, competently cleared his feet of the chair next to him and swiped an alcohol-sloshed napkin across the seat in a dismal attempt at clearing his foot soot.   
  
"Thank you," she simpered, elegantly sitting down. Max made a silent thank you to God that she didn't have any feelings for Alec. Trying to stay nose and nose in a race against her would be impossible. Repulsive as Max found Minette, she would probably be just Alec's type. She just oozed sexuality, her every movement making promises nearly no man could refuse.   
  
"Happy anniversary Alec," Minette beamed. Max and Original Cindy coughed at the same time, neither trying to hard to attempt hiding their true intentions. "You too Max," she said blandly. The two friends on the other side of the table shared a look and shook their heads with the air of two long-suffering. They both found it rather entertaining, to be honest, how Minette never hid her disdain for Max, trying to psych her out or something. Instead it had the opposite effect. As long as Max knew that Minette hated her, Max knew she was nothing like her. And that was good thing.  
  
Max let Alec and Minette drift into yet another insipid conversation, no skin off of her transgenic nose. Too bad Max didn't realize that conversation was painfully one-sided. But Original Cindy did, as she always noticed things her best friend never picked up on, never began to comprehend. Alec didn't even pretend to take his attention off of his wife sometimes. Oh, sure, he still had the "Glance and Run" sessions, but they were increasingly less frequent. And increasingly more bold. He'd sit back and take some sort of contentment in simply watching his wife, whether she would be sparring with Normal, cooking with O.C., or just daydreaming. 'It's about time someone at least considers making a move,' O.C. thought. Glancing across the table, she came into to contact with another contemplative gaze: Joshua's. Conspiratorial smiles back in place, they both raised their beer mugs in another salute.   
  
Unaware of her husband's adamant gaze or her friends' contemplations, Max challenged Luke to a game of foosball, which he readily complied to. Joshua had been teaching the younger man how to play. And as a quick learner, he was excited to test his skills on a new opponent. Practically arm in arm, the two made their way to the table.   
  
They had been growing a lot closer lately. Since Max had declared Joshua's house as her second home, she had therefore adopted the tenants as her brothers. With Mole she shared a love-hate relationship, they loved to hate each other; Dix, a love for learning. But Luke was something special, Max felt an acute protectiveness over him. In some ways, he reminded her of Jack, the one who never made it out of Manticore. They were both sweet and about as imposing as a daisy.   
  
The rounds themselves weren't too eventful though. Luke would win one, Max the next. Much more interesting was the conversation.   
  
"So, Luke. How much money did you win?" Max asked, making a quick score.   
  
Mole, Luke, and Dix had had a bet going. Mole thought Alec would kill Max before their one-year anniversary, while Dix thought it would be the other way around. Luke, the most daring gambler of the bunch, thought that they would actually make it through their first year of wedded "bliss" intact. Sometimes it seemed as if Mole would win, and then Dix's side came back with a roundhouse kick. But as Fate would have it, Luke actually won.   
  
"A hundred bucks a piece," Luke responded readily, beaming with pride.   
  
Max whistled in appreciation. "With that kind of money you won't be on the market that much longer, will ya?" she said, her smile only widening when she saw the telltale color cover both of her friend's pale cheeks. "How has the market been treating you lately?" she asked. Luke shrugged evasively, clearly hiding something.   
  
"Who is she?" Max asked, unafraid to probe further. No amount of cajoling or even threats seemed to drag the name from his lips. With a theatrical sigh, Max rolled up her sleeves. "Luke," she began, her tone a congenial warning. "You know I hate to do this to you of all people but..." Trailing off and made one last check. Satisfied the patrons in the bar were few and to smashed to care, she launched her attack.   
  
Luke squealed when she found the severely ticklish spots on both of his sides, which she had accidentally discovered the week before in a cooking lesson gone terribly wrong. Sure, Max had mastered the art of boiling water, but had yet to learn to cook pasta. At the moment she thought she would crack from aggravation, she felt something gooey splash on her neck. Egg yolk. Needless to say, the food fight of all food fights ensued. It wasn't even a fight, war had been officially declared. Covered in egg yolk and flour, Max had finally rolled him to the ground and resorted to the playful methods of torture, which actually worked.   
  
And Max was not above resorting to them yet again, even if it was in the middle of a dirty - though nearly empty - bar.   
  
After several moments of having the upper hand with Luke pinned against the table giggling helplessly, he deftly ducked around the prying fingers and wrestled Max to the ground. Amongst the ringing laughter he had managed to pin her. And when they glanced around the bar again they laughed even more heartily at their friends' obvious shock.   
  
"Okay, so you win...this time," Max imparted impishly. Satisfied, Luke lifted himself off of her stomach, vainly trying to hide his pride.  
  
"Oh, don't look so smug," the loser warned. "Next time, I show no mercy."  
  
"Oh what are you going to do Max?" Luke countered heading back to the table. Although their friends had resumed their conversations, they had yet to take their eyes off of the pair. "Hmm...chocolate syrup me to death? Make me a dinner?" He said loudly, loudly enough for the entire table to hear.   
  
"Why I oughta..." Max laughed, lunging for the offender. Thankfully for Luke, O.C. had come to his defense, grabbing the would-be murderer by the waist. "Now, now, ladies," the blockade warned. "Don't make me pull this car over."  
  
"Yeah," Max agreed. She pointed one finger at her perp, pretending to struggle against Cindy's very lax grasp. "You consider your butt lucky she's holding me back."  
  
"I always thought X5's were weak, but you Niner's must be something pathetic if an ordinary can hold you back," Luke retorted through a giggle. He squealed when Max jumped for him again. Slipping on one of Sketchy's many beer spills, Luke found himself in Alec's lap. Max stopped her endeavor, nearly doubled over with laughter at her boy's clumsiness. With a good-natured but slightly embarrassed laugh, the klutz pulled from his cushion. His apology died on his lips though, when he saw Alec's eyes. They were angry, but there was something more, obscure and feral. If Luke didn't know any better, it say it look a little bit...He shot out of his lap, more than a little afraid. Alec had never looked at him like that before. Logan, sure, but not him. He and Alec were buddies.   
  
The - jealous? - eyes followed Luke's progress in straightening, catching sight of the still laughing Max behind the offender. His eyes flashed with something deeper than the green-eyed monster, then softened. The gaze flew back to Luke. "It's no problem, man," he said, with another smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. But it seemed to be enough. Whatever Luke had done to upset his long-time friend, seemed to have mystically cleared itself up.  
  
The Four Musketeers cleared the place pretty quickly after the incident. Dix wanted to start his study on the life of Lavosier as soon as possible, there was a home-cooking show Luke simply could not miss, Josh was just dog-tired (pardon the pun), and Mole had a very expensive cigar shipment coming in, surprise surprise. With a quick round of thank you's for the three, plus a hug for Luke and Dix, and a quick punch Mole, Max sat back down. She let her head fall back against the chair, and let out a grateful sigh. The world wasn't perfect, but she had made some nice progress within the past few years. She opened her eyes lazily, afraid this moment of pure contentment would pass all too quickly.   
  
The moment was gone, for when Max began to resume a more appropriate "drinking posture" - the one where the subject idly leans over his/her drink and his/her arms drape carelessly on the table, one hand playing with his/her beer - she came across the liquid fire gaze of Minette. Max, too happy to be brood over her overcast attitude, and always taking a rather perverse satisfaction in pissing her off, turned on her million-watt smile for the heifer. Minette's angry glower only deepened, if it was humanly - or superhumanly - possible, which only gave the generator another half a million watts to work with.   
  
Unfortunately, pessimistic chumps like Minette always seemed to have a backup plan.   
  
She turned her glare into a rather "sympathetic" study, almost bordering on "friendly" and "concerned". Uh oh, that couldn't be too good. "It's almost sad actually," she began conversationally, as if this was some sort of discussion that was being continued, which it absolutely wasn't.   
  
Faintly wary, but not quite willing to fall to the bait, Max responded with a light, "Oh?"  
  
"Yeah," the confrontational reply stretched across the table. What the heck, Max was game. "What's so 'sad'?" she asked.   
  
Yes waiter, could I order a Big Mistake?  
  
The spiteful gleam returned to the still "sympathetic" eye. "It's just that, you know, you seem kind of desperate for male attention."  
  
Check please, table one?  
  
Max knew she should do the mature thing. 'Just nod vaguely, grab your coat, smile, and leave,' her Good Side whispered to herself. The Bad Side didn't even bother to show up, she knew better. She knew her Side would pull through. Confrontation was Max's first nature and middle name...if she had one. Not only that, but this conversation had struck the attention of the entire table. Cindy had just about created Old Faithful in her demonstration of the perfect arc of Miller beer across the table. Alec had recovered from his unusual fascination with the drops of condensation on the outside of his own mug, obviously awaiting a reply. Even the drunk Sketchy had somehow singled out the few sober neurons in his brain to absorb this tête-à-tête. There was no graceful way to bow out, at least that is what Max told herself.  
  
"Desperate for male attention?" Max repeated serenely. The Bad Side of Max calmly moved the beer out of her line of targeting and bashed her head against the table. Great comeback. She'll really back off now.  
  
"Yeah, you know, Luke had his hands all over you."  
  
Max would have guffawed, if only Alec hadn't completely focused his entire attention on her at that precise moment. His eyes seared hers, and Max could help but notice the twitching muscle in Alec's strong jaw. After a long silence, Max said, "We were just messing around." Bad Side used her forehead to make another dent in the beer-slick table.  
  
A rather unsightly grin spread across Minette's pretty features. "Oh, sure. I know that. But it seems kind of sad that the only time it seems anyone sees a guy touching you is when your wrestling with Luke or somebody, or fighting with Alec."  
  
Alec's jaw tensed to the point of splintering. He turned a dark glare on the voluptuous dark-haired beauty beside him, who seemed to miss the daggers. If only the decided gleam in Minette's eyes hadn't flamed brighter. She had gotten to both of them. Kill two birds with one stone. If Alec liked to fight with the girls he was attracted to, fine. She could piss him off just as well as Max.   
  
Well, almost.  
  
"What's your point?" Max replied through clenched teeth. Bad Side, returned to her masochistic banging, verging on the point of brain damage. 'Do something!' it screamed. 'Or we'll just have to take home this splintered table and duct tape it to the wall as a memento for this momentous occasion.' "I mean, just because I don't sleep around like a desperate whore, you know," repeating Minette's condescending tone with the words 'you know'. "Does that mean I automatically resort to flying fists for sexual gratification?" Max sounded off, pleased at Minette's sudden silence.  
  
But, like Alec's silences, hers didn't last long, and tended to come back with a blunt response that could stop traffic.  
  
"When was the last time you got laid, Max?" she shot. The bull crap was officially cleared, the girl had pulled out the big guns.  
  
Amazingly enough, at this point in time, instead of worrying about a retort to shut the heifer up, she just stared at Alec. His eyes locked with hers, genuine interest, along with something else unnamed, tangoed dangerously in his orbs. Her senses heightened. Alec swallowed thickly, never glancing away, almost unblinking. She could hear Cindy's manicured nails scratch away the cheap waxy build up on the table, itching. Obviously they would be more comfortably placed around Minette's ivory throat. Sketchy gasped, or hiccupped; they kind of both sounded the same when he was drunk. Crickets chirped excitedly in the background. And Alec had yet to take his eyes off of hers. She couldn't take her own from his, locked in a whirlpool and confusion.   
  
"Never," she whispered, almost inaudibly.  
  
"Beg pardon?"  
  
Somehow, from the pit of her stomach, Max summoned the strength to pull herself out of the whirlpool, her eyes shifting towards the prosecutor. "Never," she repeated louder, with more force.   
  
"You mean..."  
  
"...you're a virgin?" Alec finished quietly, in complete disbelief. All the table's gazes veered quickly in Alec's direction, amazed he'd spoken up, he who'd been silent since the moment Minette had waltzed like a harem headmistress towards the table.   
  
Okay, so Sketchy's gaze kind of "tripped" in Alec's general direction. Details, details.  
  
Max mustered up her pride and nodded her head regally. Bad Side had packed her bags. 'After all these years of snappy comebacks and winning verbal wars, she snapped under the pressure of this whore' It muttered, along with several other words not acceptable in mixed company. It ran to the rainy curb calling, 'Taxi! Taxi!'   
  
Minette predictably laughed. "How far you ever go with a guy?" she asked.  
  
"You know, you ain't gotta answer that..." O.C. tried to intervene.  
  
"I have yet to hit second base," Max stated, suddenly more proud of herself than before. At least she wasn't like Minette.  
  
"You never let a guy feel you up?" Minette guffawed. Alec's gaze pierced his wife even more acutely, becoming stormy and yet, glazing over with a respect. Almost. Maybe?   
  
Max used whatever it was Alec was shooting at her - it definitely wasn't condescending - to say something in her defense. "I don't know, I just, you know." Again, that drawled 'you know'. "I just happen to think that it would be better to be prude than to be some lowlife, off-the-street, greet-to-sheet...do you prefer morally challenged or flat out whore?" she snapped.  
  
Cindy, admirably calm up to this point in time, slammed her hand down on the table, startling the occupants of the entire bar. "Can I get an 'Amen'?!?"  
  
Tension broken, Minette slunk out of the bar with a foreboding glare towards Max, who shook it off with ease.   
  
Alec took a last shot of brandy and grabbed his coat, ready to head home. "Amen," he murmured inaudibly. Not that it mattered whether Max could hear him, she was already too engrossed with a round of high-fives with Original Cindy.  
  
Of course, the plastered Sketchmeister was the only one to catch it, but only because he'd been watching Alec's posture throughout most of the verbal brawl. Now, Sketchy had known Alec for over six years, and he'd never seen his mysterious friend in such caged intensity as he had been that night. He kept shooting hungry glances Max's way, like he wanted to swallow her whole, or something.  
  
But forty-five minutes later, home safely and having spent the last 12 minutes paying his nightly respects to Mr. Toilet Bowl, Sketchy figured the alcohol poisoning had been playing with his vision. 


	12. Summer Siren

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. I asked my mom to give them to me for Christmas and do you know what she  
said? No. Doesn't that suck?  
  
A/N: OKAY, I ADMIT IT. I HAVE TAKEN A SLIGHTLY AU-ish TURN HERE. I didn't plan on it, it just happened. I am sorry to those I seem to have lost. Here is my attempt at getting you back.  
  
A/N 2: NO animals, lamps, or cans of green peas were harmed during the writing of this chapter. Oh, no people were maimed either. Too terribly.  
  
  
  
Summer Siren  
  
  
  
Alec hit the hard-wood floor with a slam that could rank at least a three on the Richter Scale. "It's wake up time!" Satan bellowed, in the form of an exultant Max.   
  
Alec rolled over with a heavy grunt. Sluggishly detangling his limbs from the musty sheets that had followed him in the pratfall, he wiped the sleep from his eyes. After rolling to an upright position, he placed a rather burdensome one-eyed glare on the offender. Max - not in the least intimidated by the half-dressed and half-awake Alec - smiled brightly in response. She grabbed his arm and tugged on it like an impatient three year old. "Come on! Come on! The day's awastin'! We need to get on the road." she whined. Alec's only reply seemed to be a few choice - and heavily slurred - words probably judged improper in mixed company.   
  
When he made the mistake to glance longingly back at his pillow, Max was more than willing to deliver one last blow to make sure he didn't get in another catnap as soon as she left the room. She scampered out of the area even as Alec made a lunge for her. Never one to be intimidated out of some much deserved sleep, Alec crawled back into bed and threw the pillow over his head. Somewhere between zero and the full forty winks Alec felt a sharp pang in his butt. On closer inspection - which required removing the pillow from his face, much to Alec's aggravation - he saw it was a shoe. She threw a shoe at him. A high-heeled shoe. What nerve. Flinging the offending shoe off of the bed, Alec buried his face in the pillow one last time and let out a rather unmanly scream of frustration. Finally giving up on any form of sleep, deep or otherwise, Alec got up and made his bed. He needed a shower, a cup of strong coffee, and a gun. With a silencer, thank you very much.  
  
Making his way to the bathroom, Alec gratefully stole the cup of coffee warming Max's hands. "Thanks," he mumbled, hurrying a bit more now.   
  
"Hey, that's mine," Max whined, not actually making any move to retrieve her prize. She did manage to smack him one last time though, before he could march too far away. Alec grunted almost inaudibly, "With bedside manner like that no wonder you're still a virgin."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said, 'The way my head hit the floor I am gonna need a surgeon!'" The slam of the bathroom door punctuated the end of the conversation, followed by the sound of a hot shower running.   
  
Max, completely unperturbed, grabbed another cup of stale, but hot, coffee. "Pansy," she cheerfully mumbled under her breath.  
  
*****  
  
Two more cups of coffee, another small bickering fest, and thirty minutes later, Alec and Max rolled up to Foggle Towers on their two Ninjas. They wasted no time making the trek to Logan's penthouse. The overwhelming need to get out of Seattle and on the road weighed down both of the transgenics.  
  
"It's a pretty simple job," Logan said. "It's just better to have two people there..."  
  
"...to have someone to watch the other guy's back," Alec finished, signaling for Logan to keep moving with his whole spiel. Logan ignored the X5's insolence quite admirably while supplying the final instructions, fake sector passes, and of course, guns. Off of Max's blatant refusal to be packing anything with bullets, Alec rolled his eyes and took both the guns and stuffed them with Manticore precision into his already overflowing backpack.   
  
He eyed his handiwork appreciatively. "I told ya we could fit everything in there doll," he said, smiling at Logan as if there was some sort of male secret to share between them. "Max said we should take duffle bags, but in my opinion, backpacks just settle so much better on a bike. She didn't believe me when I said everything would fit just fine. It's the way a man packs. In fact," he continued, cramming his fist into a bulging side pocket. "I could probably fit something else in here," he shot Logan a smile that could charm any cobra. "A spare car perhaps?" The humor was lost on the older man, being of a whole different genus of snake than the cobra. Rolling his eyes, Logan tossed some spare AA batteries to Alec.   
  
Sparse farewells passed between the males, but Logan spent more time bidding adieu to Max. Alec used this opportunity to catch the breakfast he had missed earlier. Standing with his head in the refrigerator, Alec tried to block out what had to be an "intimate" conversation. Alec scoffed at the thought, doing his best not to notice the green pallor covering his face in the reflection of the refrigerator door. It had to have been the lights playing with the lime Jell-O.  
  
Happily munching on a yellow apple and tired of being banished to the kitchen counter - at least that is what he told himself - Alec interrupted the moon-struck lovers by walking into the room. He shot a couple looks between the two. Logan looked pissed at the intrusion, while Max just seemed to share her husband's urgency to get on the road and out of Seattle. And hopefully away from Logan, not that it really mattered to Alec one way or another.  
  
"Bye," Max said quickly.  
  
"Bye," Logan echoed. He said something else also, but Max seemed to be more interested in watching Alec choke on his apple as opposed to the final goodbye. She'd be back in about 72 hours, for crying out loud.   
  
"Just think, if all goes well..." Max said, effectively mustering up some enthusiasm.  
  
"...we can touch again," Logan finished.  
  
"Now if it wasn't for the dramatically necessary three weeks for the serum to purge her system of the virus meant to kill you, right when she got back you could as Josh so lovingly puts it, 'Get busy.'" he said, using air quotes. Max looked lost between incensed and wounded by the terse remark while Logan was the embodiment of "If Looks Could Kill." Only, "If Looks Could Kill" didn't seem quite strong enough. How about "If Looks Could Rid The Entire Planet Of Even The Slightest Memory Of Your Existence?" Much more descriptive, and in this case much more accurate. Even Alec had to take a slight gulp at the malicious venom that seemed so accustomed to Logan's ice-blue eyes these days - when Alec was involved. But it seemed even St. Logan had had enough. Today, the venom flashed like a squall over troubled waters.   
  
"And now that I have killed the 'Hallmark moment'," Alec drifted off, for once ready to make himself scarce. With an apologetic look in Logan's direction, Max promptly followed his lead. She had made it out of the door when Logan called out her name. Max whirled around, her now shoulder-length hair flowing and billowing like an old-fashioned Pantene Pro-V commercial. Both Logan a good twenty feet away, and Alec, lazily propped against outside of the doorway and mere inches away, sucked in a lungful of air.   
  
"Uh, be careful," Logan managed. Max smiled in response, the kind of smile that could inspire a wistful poet to write sonnets. The kind of smile that could inspire a soldier to get through another night with a gun under his pillow.   
  
Alec closed the door behind himself and Max, but not before his eyes locked with Logan's. Animosities might always be rooted in their non-existent friendship, but for once, both of their thoughts traveled on the same brainwave. There was something special about their Max, caught between the world of ordinaries and transhumans, "Somebody's Angel" and Soldier Messiah. There was something about their Max that was truly magnificent.  
  
Being drop-dead gorgeous didn't hurt either.  
  
*****  
  
The first day of travel was rather uneventful. Ride. Get gas. Ride. Get lunch. Ignore the spouse. Ride. Ride. And just for a change of pace, ride some more.   
  
The doctor Logan had managed to track down with the cure had hid himself pretty nicely towards the heart of Canada. Dr. Bell, as it turns out, was actually a big Eyes Only fan. He himself despised Manticore and everything it stood for. Dr. Bell had come across the military base when he was still fresh-faced and straight out of college. The idea of the working with the latest technology had to offer and gene-splicing together was all too tempting. When Manticore dropped a line on him, Dr. Bell was in - hook, line, and sinker. Then he was at the base and already acclimated with Manticore's true evil genius. By that time he had to stay and work, or find his corpse packed rather nicely into a duffel bag. Needless to say, when the great E.O. came a callin', he was ready and willing to help in anyway possible. With the exception of coming to Seattle. Manticore may be out of the picture, but several other "old friends" would be more than happy to smear blood-red paint across Dr. Bell's canvas. He seemed like a nice enough man - according to Logan anyway - but one could never be two sure, hence Alec's accompaniment.   
  
It wasn't until they pulled up in front of a hotel that Alec and Max truly acknowledged each other's presence over the last several hours. Killing the bikes' engines, they offered each other a somewhat guilty half-smile, trying to mask the traitorous thoughts bouncing around in their already confused skulls. The parking lot seemed pretty full, which was never a good thing. They appraised the building silently for a few moments, lazily draped on the Ninjas, neither wanting to be the first to move. Go figure. Two Manticore born and bred soldiers unwilling to just go inside and get a room. Of course, the thought of getting a room wasn't a problem, both of their backsides could attest to that. No, a quick shower, sprawling on a bed, and catching some sleep sounded rather nice. The problem was them both being sprawled on the same bed, which judging by the full parking lot, seemed to be more than likely.  
  
"Screw it," Alec mumbled under his breath. Stepping off the Ninja with feline grace, he leaned over to grab his backpack, unaware of Max's evaluation until he swirled around, and her eyes diverted swiftly in the opposite direction. She even had her face masked to actually seem like the object of her attention was quite fascinating. But she was trying way too hard. She seemed almost hypnotized by it, as if Alec himself wasn't worth a nanosecond of her attention.   
  
Using her obvious concentration to ignore Alec's presence to his advantage, he silently strode over to her side. He stood right behind her right shoulder, doing his best to ignore the crook of her neck and the way the breeze made Max's hair sweep gently back and forth across her barcode. He almost touched her barcode to snap her out of the reverie, but pulled his fingers back at the last second. She didn't even now he was there, fully entranced by her mystery object - or was it her thoughts?   
  
Two eyes lit up wickedly. Tongue in cheek and a devilish half-grin spreading across his face, Alec leaned over to Max's ear. Unable to resist the temptation Alec gently touched his lips to her ear, barely able to hold back a quick nibble. Instead, he whispered, "Hey Max." She shot up like a rocket. Alec swerved his head away smoothly to avoid cracking his face with the back of her skull, only to replant his lips right by her ear again. "Do you think you could take you attention away from the flower long enough to check-in? I'll pick it for you if you've grown so attached within the last twenty seconds."  
  
Max - no longer paralyzed by the electrical charge of two warm lips against the lobe of her ear - strode like a colonel on mission into the lounge of the hotel, forgetting her own bag in the process. Alec glanced down to the bag and with a shrug, lugged them both inside.   
  
"This is going to be a fun night," Alec whispered ironically.   
  
Lightening flashed across the sky like Fate's fingers, bestowing a bad omen.  
  
*****  
  
"We're actually lucky if you think about it," Alec ventured from his folding chair at the other end of the room. Max glared at him. "Seriously," he said, raising his hands in a defensive surrender. "I mean, we have to share the room, true. But in all reality, would you really rather be out in the rain, looking for another hotel? It's raining ordinaries and familiars out there."  
  
Max sat up in the middle of the bed. "'Raining ordinaries and familiars?'" she asked incredulously.  
  
"Yeah. I've decided I didn't like 'cats and dogs'. It's old. And I don't like the division between cat DNA and dog DNA. It's separating the transgenics with feline background and dog background. So why not separate us from something we really ARE segregated from, hence 'ordinaries and familiars,'" Alec said matter-of-factly. Max thought about the twisted little logic which, in the end, did make some semblance of sense. She rolled back onto her stomach looking in the corner, unaware of Alec's surreptitiously admiring eyes. Suddenly, she shot back up again. "Hold the press," she said.  
  
"What?"  
  
Max rolled over dramatically to face him. "Come here," she commanded. Without another word of explanation she turned away from him again, pointing at something. Alec, curious, came over to her side. "What's that?" she inquired, pointing to a coin slot.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Contemplative silence.  
  
"Gotta quarter?" Max asked. Alec fished through his pockets and found one. Pushing it in the coin slot, the bed began to shake. Max chortled like an innocent little girl just discovering the joys of swimming. She clumsily rolled towards the center of the bed, being bounced around like a kernel in a popcorn machine. Her joyous laughter descended upon Alec in ferocious tidal waves, over and over again. They were merciless, beating this memory of a laughing Max, a happy Max, into his brain. "It's practically got hydraulic pumps!" she squealed.  
  
Alec crouched next to the bed, his chin resting on his knuckles, smiling but never letting it reach his eyes. It was bittersweet to be her only witness of the natural high, and knowing he wasn't the cause of it. This was all from the relief of finally getting rid of the virus. But at the same time, the moment seemed almost intimate, and Alec had so few intimate moments with anyone, especially Max, that he selfishly didn't want to share it with anyone. Especially Logan. He quickly banished the thought.  
  
"Hey, it's like in Moulin Rouge with the 'Green Fairy'," she said. Then she started to sing, albeit poorly, due to the shaking bed and her snickers interrupting every note. Or maybe that was why it sounded purer. "The hills are alive, with the sound of music," she crooned over and over again. This time Alec did laugh.   
  
Eventually the vibrating stopped though, leaving a breathless and closed-eyed Max gasping for air and a voyeuristic Alec trying to turn his no longer innocent thoughts back on track. Oblivious to her husband's inner turmoil, she bounced off the bed towards the bathroom, saying she was going to take a shower.   
  
*****  
  
Max strolled out of the bathroom twenty minutes later and laid down on the bed. Alec had moved back to his chair, making the space between them feel like a 50 foot chasm, when in all reality it was only a few feet. She furtively kept glancing over in his general direction, trying to convince herself she was instinctively checking all possible escape routes, one of the few things that being on the lamb seemed to sharpen instead of dulling. Alec seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, perusing through the standard hotel Bible. It seems there was another thing the Pulse couldn't change, even heathens need religion. So after committing various acts of adultery with a low-life prostitute, the guilty husband could purge his soul by lightly skimming the "Good Book".   
  
Puh-leeze.  
  
"Whatcha reading?" Max asked rolling on to her stomach, letting her feet dangle in the air. Alec, previously in some sort of deep concentration, startled out of his meditations with a guilty snap shut of the Bible. An even guiltier ruddiness spread across his cheeks."Oh, now I have to know," Max said slyly.   
  
Alec glanced Max's way, a mixture of curiosity and panic, while trying to toss the Bible easily towards his temporary roommate. "Turn to page 361, read chapter 7 and explain it to me." Max did so, a wily smirk wriggling across her eyes as she read. "Well, Alec, I didn't realize I had to explain the birds and the bees to you..." she began in mock-seriousness.  
  
"I know that much," Alec interrupted agitatedly. "What I want to know is why the Bible, of all places, is bringing up sex. 'Your graceful legs are like jewels...your navel is a rounded goblet...your breasts are like two fawns...May your breasts be like the clusters of the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples, and your mouth like the best wine.' Why is that in the Bible? The message throughout the entire Bible is 'No Sex Until Marriage and Pure Monogamy Afterwards' and suddenly they throw in this? It's sounds hypocritical to me."  
  
Max thought about his response to the chapter, and reread it again, skimming some other chapters as well. "Maybe that is why they have the passage," she reasoned. Off of Alec's bemused stare, she tried to explain her own theory. "Maybe this is to show what Christians are waiting for. Listen here in chapter four, 'You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride; you are a spring enclosed, a sealed fountain.' This is personal, something special that his bride had never been with another man. And later, the bride warns the other girls 'not to awaken love until the time is right.' So maybe it's saying that it is better to wait until marriage for sex, so you get the 'fullness' of married life or whatever." She thought for a moment. "Actually, before the pulse a few colleges made a study out of the subject on who exactly has a better sex life, and it came out that monogamous wives whose only partner had ever been there husbands got the best lovin'."  
  
Alec seemed very interested now. Leaning forward in his chair, his suddenly intense perusal made her nervous. Max looked away, swallowing thickly.   
  
"What about heat cycles? How did you stay a virgin through those?"   
  
Max's eyes practically fell off of her face in shock at the blunt question. "My first time, I didn't realize what was happening and I almost went to bed with some guy I met on the street corner in Frisco. Unfortunately, or fortunately, however you see it, good old Deck decided just at that moment to locate me. I spent the rest of my cycle hiding in the trees outside the city. I went to a library soon afterwards to figure out what had gone wrong, discovered what "heat cycles" were and I have avoided the male species when I felt the first symptoms ever since."  
  
"Even in Seattle?"  
  
"I got lazy then, too comfortable. I met this guy Darren at a bar once, curious what dating was all about..."  
  
"...and he broke your heart," Alec finished.  
  
"Hardly," Max laughed. "I found him once with this girl name Justine, and in all truthfulness, I was relieved. Darren was more lust. He called me a "human fog bank" or something, but mostly I think he was pissed because I wasn't as easy a lay as I looked. There was one time though..."  
  
"Rafer?"  
  
Max looked stunned at his intuition. "How'd...?"  
  
"Gut instinct," Alec casually said, scratching the back of his hand. He shrugged off the memory of Max's face smiling up into the pizza delivery guy's, how he had suddenly lost his appetite that day.  
  
"Well, nothing happened. Not that it wasn't close. I was at the end of my cycle and I needed to get out. I had almost jumped Normal that day, for crying out loud." Alec laughed and Max smiled too. Continuing, she said, "Then I ran into Rafer and I let him take me to his place." Alec was extremely grateful at her tact in leaving out the details. "Thankfully, O.C. followed me and almost knocked me unconscious." She explained Cindy's secret recipe for temporarily curing "The Itch".   
  
Another pregnant contemplative silence followed.   
  
"You don't look like an easy lay to me, Max," Alec said. He grimaced. "In fact, I seem to remember a size ten boot in my gut the first - and last time - I approached you." His eyes twinkled mischievously, answered by Max's light laughter, which sent a small thrill down his spine.   
  
"Well I'm sorry if 'we're supposed to copulate every night until you get pregnant' isn't the special one-liner to get me in bed," mimicking his terminology tone for tone.   
  
"What is your special one-liner, Max?" Alec had to force the mischief into his pitch, suddenly weighed down by real curiosity, real want. "Maybe you prefer Logan's style. Is he a poet? Do his bottles of wine and high-class Spaghetti-O's fit your taste?" He paused, suddenly unsure. "Do you think sex is something to wait for?"  
  
Max suddenly grew silent, abruptly aware of the underlying seriousness in Alec's sarcastic manner; the terse way he held his body in the chair, trying to appear relaxed.  
  
"Do you feel like the Bible says, Max?" he asked softly, dead serious. "Do you think that sex is some precious flower or whatever, to be saved for one person and one person only?" Amazingly enough, his tone wasn't condemning or reproachful. He looked as if he was really fascinated by the thought of that being her philosophy.   
  
Max, unable to bear the weight of Alec's probing gaze, stood up and began pacing the room to work out her apprehension. This was heading into dangerous territory. She had never discussed her sexual morals with O.C., her confidant, much less some Manticore womanizer like Alec. In all honesty, Max didn't know why she never got around to 'getting laid'. She just didn't. It was an unnecessary hassle, she'd seen too many roommates over too many years get heartbroken because her "generous lover" felt like spreading his brimming benevolence - among other things - around the neighborhood. Then there was the whole factor that even casual sex seemed to invite a "closeness" Max couldn't afford, having a secret government bureau on her tail and all.   
  
Not only that, but Max considered her body probably one of the only things about herself she truly owned. Oh sure, Manticore engineered her body down to the rate at which her toenails grew, but that was where the "owning" stopped. With the exception of her "cycles" a few times a year - thank whatever deity Manticore had fixed those during her last stay. Even after the escape, when Max believed she truly began living - no longer existing -, Manticore owned her soul for a while, then her heart, and finally it released it's grasp on her mind. But after the escape, Max's body was hers and hers alone, so she naturally felt a little protective.   
  
Halting her march and her thoughts, Max stopped in front of the window, taking in the thundering tempest raging outside. And the one building inside the room. Like the night of Joshua's party, the walls began to gradually pull in towards the center of the room, where Alec was now standing, drawn by some invisible - but fervent - magnet. His eyes were boring into her from behind, making her feel an unwelcome vulnerability.   
  
Alec watched her pace around the room with something akin to anticipation, hopefulness. In and of itself, the feelings were absurd. It was none of his business whether Max was chaste or the whore of Babylon. She wasn't his wife...well, not really. She didn't promise to honor, cherish, hold him in sickness and in health, until death do they part. No, she promised to stick around for 18 months and then ride off into the sunset with her "lover boy". Logan. Alec's eyes darkened over with protectiveness - or envy, at this point they seemed pretty synonymous - at the thought of Logan and Max...he couldn't even finish the thought, but whether he was more disgusted by the imagery or his own reaction was better left unsaid.   
  
Feeling his originally innocent question stirring up unwanted feelings, Alec tried to get Max to talk again. He needed something to distract him. Before he lost himself to male stupidity, he changed the course of the subject. "Of course, if I were you, I wouldn't sleep with Logan," he quipped snidely, almost regretting the comment. Almost. Although Alec saw the angry slam of cement walls close around her eyes, if he had to sit there and think about some certain idealistic, posh, and self-ordained Messiah of lost turtles taking Max to his bed, he'd hurl. Or even worse, he might do something stupid, or say something stupid.   
  
Max and Logan. Together. Intimately. The thought was more than nauseating.   
  
It was painful. On several levels.   
  
Unfortunately, the only one Alec would allow himself to admit to was male pride.   
  
Max turned around on one heel very slowly. Unable to see the shock, anger, and most of all, hurt, mingling on her face, Alec slid his leather jacket off of the back of the chair. "The storm's lighting up, I am going to go grab some grub," he said, his back to Max. "You want anything in particular, Chinese, piz...Ooof!" For the second time that day, Alec hit the ground with an colossal thud, compliments of his wife. Only this time, Max wasn't feeling playful. She felt angry, livid, maybe even the littlest bit hurt; but anything far from playful.   
  
Pulling his face out of the grubby shag carpet, Alec rolled to his back, looking up at Max. Hands on her hips, nostrils flaring, eyes flaming, she did not look like a happy camper. Playing possum seemed to be Alec's only hope for survival. But would he do it? Not a chance. They both had some serious issues to clear up here, before the static electricity sparked and caused a forest fire.   
  
Rising to his feet slowly - as to not startle his predator - he asked carefully, "What was that for?"  
  
Max went from angry to stunned and back. Wait, no...she was enraged now. "How...I...what...you...?" she sputtered, her hands flapping through the air like a hen trying to fly. Palms in the air, Alec began to back away slowly, but she kept stalking him until he had his back against the wall, literally. "Where do you get off?!?"  
  
Alec mulled the question over. "Well, I thought I'd use the exit ramp, but if you've got a better idea..." he was cut off by a fist pounding his shoulder. Balling the lapels of his leather jacket inside her smaller fists, she pulled him a couple inches towards herself, just to slam him back against the groaning wall again. "I can't believe you! Who are you to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with? Nobody!" With each statement, she heaved him against the wall, bits of plaster drifting about them like winter's first snow. "Don't treat me like I am wrong just because I know someone's name, phone number, address, and favorite color before I sleep with him! I am tired of being little virgin Max! Just because I've never had sex doesn't give Minette the right to harass me all the time, or you to tell me..." With one last chuck, she strode away from him, afraid of her own anger.   
  
Alec, bouncing off the wall with characteristic ease, felt his own temper rising in proportion with hers. After lightly brushing plaster bits off of his broad shoulders, he followed her to the window. Standing mere inches behind Max, he tried to push himself away from her, but found that he couldn't. They stood like that for minutes, hours, days on end. Her watching the storm. Him watching her.   
  
When Alec could finally see straight, the colors no longer obscured, he lightly grasped her shoulders. Max tensed in reaction - obviously prepared for a more violent handling -, which tormented Alec all the more. He noted her clenched eyes and fists when she finally faced him. "Max, look at me," he pleaded softly. His strong hands slid down to cup her elbows, pushing her gently against the wall. It was almost comforting, the gentle pressure Max felt holding her up, suspending her in time. Lost in her own thoughts she strove to use the cold glass of the rain pelted window against her back and shoulders as her last link to reality. How much she would rather be outside, finding solace and asylum in the icy downpour, as opposed to being braced by this man. Time to face the music. Or fire. Slowly she opened her eyes, not looking at his face, but at their feet.   
  
"Max, tell me the truth. Do you love Logan, or was it just lust? During that 12 hour cure what did you feel when he touched you, kissed you? The pent up longing and love between you should have rocked your senses." Unknowingly, he let memories of the release of his own "pent up longing" squeeze her arms a little tighter, drawing her attention to his chest. "Even at that, it was five years ago. If there was no virus now, and you went home, would you give what you have obviously been saving for someone special? Do you think he loves you? Don't you think you deserve better?" By a sheer force of will power and telepathy, her eyes locked with his. Confused and lost but determined, Max couldn't give up on Logan.   
  
Not just yet.   
  
"Who do I deserve Alec?" she asked softly. "You?" She instantly regretted the remark, and reached for him. But Alec had stepped back, slightly hunched and defeated, as if she had just kicked him in the stomach. She watched his face change from offended to agonized, agonized to self-derisive, and finally from self-derisive to impassive and perfectly pokerfaced. Alec smiled one of his smiles that never reached his eyes - which Max had come to learn meant he had been stung unusually deep - and he said, "No Max, you don't deserve me. Well actually, no one deserves you."  
  
*****  
  
Minette was sitting at Crash, waiting for her favorite patron. Alec left Seattle with Max - much to her ire - but when he came back, he seemed to be in a severe state of shell-shock. The walking dead in question came through the door, and the brunette's eyes lit up with almost sadistic glee. He meandered to the bar, ordering his usual scotch, gulping it down without a second thought, immediately signaling for another. Alec had three shots in a freefall towards his stomach by the time Minette magically appeared at his side. Not even glancing her way, he asked, "What can I do for you tonight?"  
  
"Hmm. I can think of plenty of responses to that," she quipped. Alec swiveled in his chair. Even completely heartbroken and doing his best to drown the sad fact in alcohol, he still was gorgeous. She sat back in her own chair, admiring him and giving him ample opportunity to reciprocate. And for once, he did. He sat back himself, taking in her smooth legs, impossibly full curves, and promising eyes. Fine.   
  
Tonight he'd bite.   
  
Placing down his fees for the scotch, he grabbed her graceful hand in his chiseled one. He led them haphazardly through the speculative crowd, unaware of Cindy's vigilant eyes. Minette noticed though, and threw a triumphant look over her shoulder, daring O.C. to separate the two. O.C. just stared at the couple with something akin to pity.   
  
Once free from Crash's smoky atmosphere and attentive witnesses, Alec pulled Minette behind a stack of crates and released all of his pent up passion and vehemence in a merciless attack on her willing lips. His lips drove her crazy with desire. His skilled hands flamed her lust. "Wait," she breathlessly said, pulling back slightly.   
  
Alec didn't want to wait, didn't want to think. "Your place," he gruffly said. Minette gave him a sultry smile, promising him the pleasures of the night to come. "Yeah," she agreed, kissing him quickly before she leading him to her car.  
  
Minette turned on the ignition with a proud flick of her wrist, looking over to her passenger, who sent her a slightly dubious, but resolute grin of his own.   
  
Max could simper over her humanoid Logan all that she wanted. For tonight at least, Minette had caught the real prize.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Hi! I love you guys, really. Hope you had a lovely Thanksgiving. I'll make sure I have the next chapter up by....Valentine's at the least. ;) 


	13. No Harvest This Season

Disclaimer: I don't own them.  
  
A/N: Thank you for all the reviews. To those who hated the story's plotlines and to those who defended my honor in particular. (You're ALL so great.) Even those who clearly stated the major flaws in the story and the complete "destruction of Max's character". You stated your opinion, loud and clear; my respect for reviewers everywhere went up a notch. Will I change the path of this story? I am not sorry to say that I won't. If you don't like it, as one reviewer said, you don't have to read it. There are several other M/A stories out there that will leave Max as she is and write impeccable stories in the process. You can stop; you have my blessing to do so. (Not that you need it.)  
  
I can completely understand the need behind reading an offending piece of writing, stating your opinion on why it is wrong, and not reading anymore and encouraging others not to read it as well. Thank you for reading at least thus far and giving the God's honest truth - or opinion, the lines are rather blurred.   
  
Whoever said I sounded self-righteous thank you for reminding me. I have been fighting that a lot recently, and you reminded me I still have a lot of work to go as of yet. YES, IN ALL REALITY, I HAVE "CHANGED" MAX INTO SOMEONE I CAN IDENTIFY WITH. You might see me as opposed to Max, and I am sorry about that, it wasn't my intention, not at all. (Max is a heck of a lot stronger than I could ever be, figuratively as well as literally.) But truly, don't all of our favorite books and movies contain a heroine/hero that we pretend to be? They have the strength (or love, or faith, whatever your preference is) that we want, that we aspire to. Who knows? Maybe leading the residents of TC for five years "changed" Max. Maybe it made her grow up, become more moralistic, etc.   
  
On a final note: To those who I really seemed to have pissed off. I am not sorry. I have written the story the way I have written the story, and I am too lazy - and quite frankly, too proud - to change it. Actually, I think I owe you some debt of gratitude. Seeing people hate this story strengthened me in my own ethics, but at the same time humbled me and broke some of my pride. I truly thank you.   
  
I really hope somebody read this, particularly those who I offended.   
  
I am sorry, that was a lot longer than I originally planned.  
  
A/N #2: Anybody who actually finished the first A/N deserves a nice big pat on the back. Give yourself one from me. Now go get yourself a big bowl of ice cream.  
  
  
  
  
No Harvest This Season  
  
  
  
  
Of course, as Fate would have it - being the wily imp that she is -, that was the same night Max broke it off with Logan.   
  
For good this time.   
  
*****  
  
"All went well, I presume?" Logan asked over a glass of Pre-Pulse chardonnay.   
  
"Yeah, Logan. It went off without a hitch," Max replied soullessly. With a foreboding silence, she showed the small puncture in her forearm where the needle had gone in.   
  
Where the cure had gone in.  
  
Logan leaned a few inches forward in his chair, as if doing so would unlock whatever secret his pokerfaced companion seemed to hold away so dearly. He almost reached out to tip her chin up to face him, as opposed to having her study the fine artistry of the cherry wood table so intently. Admonishing himself for such a ludicrous idea, Logan held back. Even though Max had already injected herself with the cure, her body wouldn't be rid of one of the constant barriers in their relationship for at least another two and a half weeks. Speaking of constant barriers..."It's Alec isn't it," he asked, composed and unassuming.  
  
Max did look up then, baffled. Even if the eyes weren't the window to the soul, it was obvious he had hit the proverbial nail square on the head. Back straight as a pole, mouth slightly ajar, eyebrows reaching for the stars, and claws industriously digging into the table: Max looked for all the world like a back alley kitten, caught between a brick wall, a rummaged trashcan, and the driver ready to haul her off to the pound. She obviously wasn't up to playing with the big dogs right then.   
  
Composing herself, Max quickly denied the idea vocally, while finally accepting the idea inwardly. It WAS Alec, the constant source of her problems. Not in necessarily a bad way, but it just was. Alec the Wise Guy. Alec the Scoundrel. Alec the Womanizer. Alec the Protagonist. Alec the Ally. Alec the Husband. Alec the...Alec. Behold the many faces of Alec. Did it always have to come back to him, of all people?   
  
"Max," Logan said for the umpteenth time. She'd completely spaced him out again, lost in her own thoughts. It was starting to get unnerving, not to mention annoying.  
  
"Yes," she interjected reflexively, not knowing what question she might have been asked. "What?" she asked. Lost in a complete Daze, Max felt scatterbrained but completely focused at the same time. But the focus wasn't on Logan; it was on that lousy husband of hers. The Daze cleared her mind, and showed her the truth she had been fighting for so long.   
  
Alas, the Daze left her feeling a bit impulsive as well.  
  
"Do you love me Logan?"  
  
Trying not to look completely blown out of the water by the spontaneous question, he managed a strangled "Yes."  
  
"No you don't." There was no condemnation; just cold, hard honesty.   
  
Now it was his turn to be baffled. "What are you talking about?"   
  
The world had fallen off of her axis and was now careening wildly out of control, taking Logan for a bumpy ride. Max, his driver, seemed to be completely serene, at ease even. She knew something mysterious, and was waiting patiently for him to figure it out. Her face alighted by some epiphany-like smolder, she was more alluring than ever. Whatever knowledge had suddenly fallen into her lap left her breezy, beautiful, and abruptly unattainable. Like the last remnants of a perfect slumber quickly disappearing, Logan felt the dredges of Reality settle in the pit of his stomach, like the light of day cascading on his eyelids. Then Reality started to billow and unfurl, sweeping across his entire frame, finally reaching the tips of his toes and the back of his mind. It wasn't until then he realized what Max was truly saying, what she had been saying, what THEY had been saying.   
  
It was over.   
  
Their farce of a relationship was finally over.   
  
*****  
  
Logan was no fool. His relationship with Valerie had left him jaded, but sharper. He had known this day was coming, but failed to let himself see what had been sitting right in front of his nose.   
  
The abrupt ending with Valerie had hit him like a ton of bricks, crushing him under their unmerciful weight. It had taken Logan years to fully remove those bricks; even then, he still had a couple tied to his shoelaces. This was different though, his break off with Max. They had drifted apart over time, but now that Logan thought about it, they had never really been drifting together. Max had come along and selflessly -though unwittingly - helped him rid himself of the load of past relationship failures. During their mutual struggle to pull off each other's blocks of burden an unbreakable bond had formed. A sound friendship. The break-up of the relationship that never was left him lighter, relieved.   
  
They weren't supposed to be lovers.  
  
They say girls marry their fathers; for a short time Max had tried to do just so. No Logan wasn't abrasive or abusive like Manticore had been, but in his own soft way he always called for "Eyes front." He gave her a mission, a purpose, helping mold her in ways no secret government operation ever could. He had made her grow up, pushing her outside the self-centered limits of her former existence. She wasn't some government product. She was a human being. She wasn't inferior.   
  
Max had been Logan's goddess at first. With Valerie and the many other women in his life, he always pushed for what he couldn't have. Putting himself into situations where he felt unworthy had been his haven for so long. But then Max had come along, physically superior, perfect. But she was broken, just like everyone else. She was just like Logan, quivering in her own fears. No one was perfect, she taught him that. He wasn't inferior.  
  
*****  
  
Completely sorted out, Max and Logan looked at each other. They shared their first true smile, unhindered by "supposed to's" and "what if's".   
  
What had never officially begun was now officially over.   
  
Rising gracefully from her seat on the couch, she bounced across the room, put on the ever-present plastic gloves, and picked up the phone. After punching a couple buttons, she tossed the phone to Logan. Bemused, placed the phone to his ear.   
  
"Bye, Logan," Max called. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."  
  
Logan never really heard her farewell, staring at the disappearing shape. "Hello?" came the voice on the other end of the line. Logan smiled, filled with liberation and gratitude.  
  
Speed dial 6.   
  
  
*****  
  
"...And O.C. didn't do anything, just stood there. Right after they were out the door, I came here." she said.  
  
Walking up behind his friend, Joshua put his burly arms around her lithe-like frame. Of course, when considering his size and shape, almost anything seemed lithe-like. "You did the right thing, Cindy," he murmured into her thick black hair. He gave her an extra squeeze for reassurance.   
  
"Yeah right," she bit off. "Tell Original Cindy that again when Minette pops out Alec Jr. in nine months."  
  
"I know Alec," Josh said reassuringly. "He won't sleep with Minette. He loves Max."  
  
*****  
  
She gunned her engine down the uninviting alley outside of Crash. Pulling up near the doorway, she turned off of her engine. Mid-swing off of her bike, Max saw them.  
  
Minette and Alec. Kissing. Hot and heavy.   
  
Max couldn't believe her eyes. Unable to speak, move, or even breathe, she just flopped back down onto her bike and watched. Time stopped. The world spun on a different axis; or maybe it stopped spinning entirely. Whatever it was - something unseen, but constantly unvarying - up and decided to throw itself completely off kilter. All senses heightened. Eyes memorized the hands on her face, the lips slamming against Minette's. Every breath shared between them brought back another element of the night of Joshua's party back to the forefront of her mind, pushed back until this moment. The handles underneath her gloved fingers were suddenly cold and mocking. The taste of lust lingered in the air. She heard the faint "your place" reverberate off of the grungy brick walls.   
  
When they left, the temporary paralysis left Max's dismayed body. She covered the Ninja, suddenly breathless. Gasping for air, she started the engine and turned towards one of her sanctuaries. The Space Needle.  
  
*****  
  
"They're both fools."  
  
"They'll come around eventually."  
  
"Whateva you say, Big Boo. Just tell Original Cindy this: What's Max going to do when she finds out?"  
  
Silence.  
  
*****  
  
"Alec, that feels so good." He pulled back for a moment, smiling shamelessly.   
  
"Just wait," he whispered, capturing her lips again. They continued in their teasing with merciless greediness. Moving his lips from hers, he worked his way down her smooth jawbone and sinuous throat, earning several celebratory sighs from his "date".  
  
It had taken them forever to get back to her place. Impatient, he had begun his teasing before they had even reached the first stoplight away from Crash. When they finally reached her apartment, they were deadlocked in each other's arms. This was the way it was supposed to be. They were perfect together.   
  
A rather ugly, triumphant smile crossed her face at the memory. Then Minette heard it. Faint, breathless, and rock-solid. It wasn't her name he sighed; it was another's. All the craving that had matured after the years turned cold in the bottom of her stomach. The constant churning of desire froze over.  
  
None too gently, she pushed Alec off of her. He rolled to his back with stunned compliance, flailing like a fish. He didn't just...but judging by the frosty fire in Minette's eyes, he did.  
  
"What did you say?" she asked coldly, unbelieving. He was finally going to be hers, and he just...it was unthinkable.  
  
Wordlessly, he spun to his side, sizing up his companion. Flushed, panting for breath, curves the goddess Venus would be envious over: there was no good reason why he shouldn't want her. And yet. He closed his eyes, wistfully eager for just one moment of obscurity, emptiness.   
  
It didn't come.  
  
Exploding memories reflected off of all sides of his brain, like a tiny beam of light first catching the maze of mirrors. One tiny image made way for several, each more disloyal to the spot he was laying than the last. The memories overflowed; harsh but necessary, ugly but glorious. One face remained constant, in many a display of emotions. Did it always have to come back to her, of all people?  
  
He wasn't supposed to be here. With one last, fleeting glance to his companion, he rose from the bed. Turning his face away he grabbed his discarded shirt that landed on the lampshade, the shoes from the floor. Walking - for the first time that night, with a real purpose - out the door, he hustled down the stairs, away from Minette's apartment. He needed to be going fast or up high to truly sort his thoughts. He didn't feel like racing around Seattle and battling with the Sector Police and their ridiculous restrictions tonight. Gunning his engines, he turned his Ninja towards the Space Needle.  
  
He never actually did answer Minette's question. She knew what he said and so did he.   
  
Lying next to one of the sexiest, most beautiful women in the world, he moaned the name of his loathed wife.  
  
Go figure.  
  
*****  
  
To turn around or not to turn around, that was the question.   
  
Max felt his presence behind her, the eyes boring into her back, rarely glancing away, and only when the night below cried out in pain. A siren from the Sector Police went off; the eyes moved away. The distant alarm of a museum sounded across the dimly lit horizon; the eyes moved away. Luckily for Max, the city was freely voicing all complaints tonight, because Alec had yet to drop the majority of his training. Always alert, always investigating. Every time the oppressive eyes moved away, she felt she could breathe.  
  
Max was sad. Beyond sad, she was miserable. Yes, she and Alec did have an agreement with their dating statuses, which is what the entire marriage was about. But at the same time, seeing Alec sliding lips with Minette and knowing that he slept with her had put her in an inexplicable funk of melancholy and chaos, rolled together in a hostile muddle. Heavy on the "hostile". Max knew how she would react if she were to say anything, do anything. Depression would convert into confusion, which would convert in anger. Anger was not a plus at this point in time. As great as it would be to do something irrational and completely vent her anger in the process, she would say something to hurt Alec. For all of his facade of immunity, he was actually very fragile. And Max knew a number of Achilles'' heels that Alec possessed.  
  
But Minette, of all people?  
  
Was Max disappointed in him? Undoubtedly.   
  
Hurt? Possibly.  
  
Jealous? Max refused to even answer the question, on general principle.  
  
Minette? The name ran in her mind over and over again, accompanied by several choice images. While she personally would spit on the woman's grave, she knew Minette was just her husband's type. Beautiful. Bold. Smart. Beautiful. Sexy. Cunning. Beautiful.   
  
  
But the most troublesome thought of the entire evening was...why did Max care? She was determined not to care. It would go against her newfound theory: She wasn't meant to fall in love. It wasn't some twisted logic because she was a genetically enhanced super soldier, trained not to fall in love. She had too many other things to worry about. Even though the "Transgenic Problem" had been neatly cleared over, there were a few small storms now and then that had to be fought. And Max was the spokesperson. And even if there wasn't the whole transgenic deal going on, it was about time she declared herself as a free, independent, and single woman. Her chin tilted up in pride at the thought, and she allowed herself a small nod. Yes, she was through with men. She was free, independent...  
  
...and married.   
  
Details, details. The divorce would be finalized in a few months' time, anyway.   
  
Minette had Alec. Alec had Minette. Logan had Asha. Asha had Logan.   
  
Max had Max.  
  
"I don't need Alec," she said to herself, forgetting her company and his hypersensitive hearing. A shadow stiffened in the background. She continued so quietly that she didn't even hear it herself, much less the offended silhouette. "I don't need Logan. I don't need anybody."  
  
Suddenly less sure of herself, she glanced down at the source of one of her many afflictions.   
  
Her wedding ring was as polished as ever, with the exception of a few grease stains tainting the rim. Max frowned down at her shackle; she really should have taken it off when working on the Ninja. She slipped the ring off of her finger, inspecting the grit crusting the outside in the dismal glow of the Seattle skyline. Scratching off some of the grime with her fingernail, she almost involuntarily chucked the ring over the fringe of the Space Needle - not to mention herself - when she heard his voice suddenly right behind her ear ask cryptically, "You're not really going to toss that are you?"  
  
*****  
  
To speak or not to speak, that was the question.   
  
Alec must have stood their for a good thirty minutes; his eyes boring into her back, willing to make her turn around and willing her to not move a muscle at the same time. See? This was why Alec hated this marriage. Max had him so confused, he didn't even know whether he wanted her to spin around or stay still. And that's the simple stuff, not to mention the tougher stuff. Should he try to cheer her up when she was blue? Should he play the jesting rake or the sincere comrade? And most importantly, should he grant her a divorce when the time was up?  
  
It was stuff like that. He felt so inept to make decisions constantly, even military ones at times, where his expertise outweighed hers by a good ten years. Constantly second-guessing himself, Alec would try to decide if Max would agree with his decisions. And the worst part was, if he thought she wouldn't like it, he'd occasionally adjust the plan. He would change the plan on something he thought would upset a person who wouldn't even know the existence of his operation. WHY?  
  
But Alec knew why. It finally dawned on him, sitting at the stoplight of South Market and Grand. She got under his skin; the same skin he had spent so many long, hard years trying to keep untouched.   
  
And she didn't just "touch" his skin, no that was too simple for let's-complicate-everything-so-I-can-feel-suitably-guilty Max. Max waltzed up, found an old battle scar, ripped it open, and peered inside like some deranged physician. Not even a real physician, more like a pre-med kid. She didn't know anything, but she tried to fix it anyway. Then she had the nerve to feel bad when he winced at the ripping open of an already healed wound. Well, it wasn't quite healed, but it was on its way. Sort of. Maybe. Either way, it was none of her business, thank you very much. He had every intention of telling her that, and he even did. Occasionally.   
  
He was just so riled by her sometimes he didn't know whether to embrace her or flatten the girl on her fanny.  
  
Max was just so frustrating and obnoxious and hoity-toity and...  
  
...Alec was a fool.   
  
A fool in love.  
  
With Max.  
  
God help us all.  
  
Well he sure wasn't going to tell her. She had Logan, he thought with a sneer. Bile rose in the back of Alec's throat. There was nothing to be done. Max had Logan. Logan had Max. Alec had Alec. According to Max's sketch of Alec's character, that would be all he needed. Alec was narcissistic and rude and arrogant.   
  
Then he heard it, soft and confident.   
  
"I don't need Alec."  
  
Not that he would ever expect Max to admit her undying love for him in any way. Though the drama suited her type, bestowing her love on his "unworthy" self would be too much to ask. The words hit Alec like a physical blow, causing him to stagger back a step.   
  
`I don't need Alec.' Alec may have been a lovesick fool, but he was no idiot. He had learned to speak `Max' quiet fluently and he knew how it worked. `I don't need Alec' meant `I don't want Alec.' `I don't want Alec' meant `I don't like Alec.' And Max was a very passionate person. Either she loved you or she hated you. `I don't like Alec' meant `I hate Alec.'  
  
He had said those words to himself over and over again for the past few years. Anytime he screwed up and she glowered, or even when he did well and she barely smiled, he reminded himself of the phrase. "She hates you." He had whispered it to himself over and over, becoming his personal mantra. Alec knew she hated him in his head, it was just that the heart - though fragile - was just so dang persistent. His brain had been warning him all these years, trying to thwart the calamity, but his heart had dared to hope. Somewhere deep inside the very bottom of his heart, the remotest part, where no person had ever been, - not even Rachel - Max had touched. Touched, caressed, stroked, pummeled - whatever she did, Max had done it all to well. Max had lit a very tiny, very crucial candle in his soul. While the flame inside showed all of his grim Shadows, it bestowed the Light as well. And with Light had come Hope...  
  
...suddenly smashed.  
  
On closer look, he saw Max remove the ring from her finger, broodingly glowering at it. She raised it high enough to catch one last look before casting it over the edge of the Space Needle. Coincidence? Alec didn't think so. Determined not to be the brunt of a brush-off - no matter how symbolic -, he crossed the space between them and masked his voice in something "light" asking, "You're not really going to toss that are you?"  
  
*****  
  
Minette rested on her bed, staring at the doorway where Alec had meandered out mere minutes earlier. It was inconceivable, simply inconceivable. From flicker to inferno, she had so diligently built up that man for over five years, only to be dispelled by a puff, a name.   
  
Max.  
  
Growling, Minette flopped down face first on her bed. Disgusted by the bitter taste of defeat flooded her mouth, she quickly spit on the floor. It was galling to contemplate, much less admit - but it was true.  
  
It was over.  
  
Minette was actually quite shocked that her heart wasn't quite broken at the thought. Sure, her pride was on a self-righteous fire, lost in the common "How dare he?" and "What nerve!" But at the same time, she wasn't all that broken about it.  
  
It was over.  
  
Fine, Minette was strong and there was plenty of fish in the sea. One dead cod wasn't going to destroy her day.   
  
The shocking thing was that something else infuriated Minette more than Alec's unwitting confession of love for Max. That part of her wounded pride was pretty much mended by his assessment. He knew he should want her, it was just that the little wife got in the way. No something much worse settled in the back of her mind, steadily working its way to the forefront - like her steadily increasing pressure on the vase in her hand. Accepting another calamitous thought, Minette flung the vase against the wall in a fit of rage, satisfied by the dusty crash.   
  
Max would have her Disney-style happy ending.  
  
Minette was no fool. It was blatantly obvious to everyone but Max and Alec that they loved each other. Alec was coming to terms with it, so would Max eventually - but only after many a dramatic sighs. That thought scourged her pride the most. It wasn't really anything personal; Minette just couldn't stand the girl. Her eyes glazed over the apartment blankly until she spotted her salvation - or maybe it was her Black Book, the lights were seductively dim.  
  
Alec's jacket. Minette's eyes gleamed in appreciation for his forgetfulness. Lost in his own thoughts and rush, he had left it behind.   
  
Perfect.  
  
Even though Max stood a better chance at winning the main man eventually, it would be a personal honor to destroy her - even if only for a short while. Give Max back the jacket, a few veiled remarks, and watch the girl crumble. It would be perfect. Knowing Max's uptight morals it could be quite sometime - if ever - before she trusted Alec again.  
  
Perfect.   
  
*****  
  
"You're not really going to toss that are you?"  
  
Much to her personal humiliation, Max must have leaped a good six inches in the air. Feigning he didn't just catch her forehead in his chin, Alec sat down next to her - entirely too close for any degree of comfort, for either party. Turning his head to watch the now inanimate horizon, he used his other senses to gauge her feelings. Her heart rate had skyrocketed - not too surprising when she had almost pulled a triple flip off of the Space Needle - and was now returning to normal, almost. Her breathing was irregular - also probably due to her near acrobatics.  
  
Wary to the point of insanity, Max amused herself by peeling the last bits of grease off of her ring. Putting it back on with all the grace she could muster in her frantic state - like a drugged elephant trying to walk a tightrope. All the peanuts on the opposing platform couldn't settle her jumpy nerves. Alec noticed her shakiness and for once decided to refrain from saying something witty, no matter how tempting it might have been. It wouldn't really be fair anyway; he was just as wobbly as she was. The heat from their bodies bounced back and forth between them like frenetic sound waves. The last time they were so close together was in the hotel room, Alec subconsciously shivered at the thought.  
  
It was best not to say anything. Talking would lead to arguing. While they were both looking for a fight, they were also incredibly reluctant to throw the first punch. It was almost heady, the scent of upcoming skirmish, dancing around in two sets of nostrils.   
  
Their next clash would be a doozy; and they were both terrified of it. Who knows what they would confess under the pressure? In their silence they tried to stall the coming storm, settling for at least the temporary stillness. The rising barometric pressure was palpable, the calm was deceiving.   
  
The hurricane began its rage the next day. 


	14. Calm Before the Storm

Disclaimer: Many forms are covered in the first thirteen chapters, yes.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Only a few more runs left," Max mumbled to herself. Gulping down another shot of the crisp, mid-morning Seattle air, Max picked up her pace. It was all for naught. Riding faster, observing the crowded street corners with an artist's eye, even singing couldn't get him out of her mind. Despite all of her convictions to ignore the man, Alec kept popping up. When one of Jam Pony's regulars tried to flirt with her, she couldn't help but notice how much more compelling Alec's "cocky smile" was.   
  
And as if thinking about Alec wasn't troubling enough, Minette always popped up too. Minette and Alec. Together. Intimately. The thought was enough to cause bile to rise in the back of Max's throat, with an added sharp kick to the gut, just for laughs. Yes, Alec slept with Minette. Get over it. Max forced back another looming wave of nausea. Gulping it down didn't seem to help. Her feet raced against the pedals even faster, but she couldn't outrun it. The tidal wave was threatening to take her over again.   
  
Get over it. Easier said than done.   
  
Taking a leisurely break, she stopped by a street vendor and nonchalantly perused the merchandise. Picking up one T-shirt, she couldn't help but wonder how Alec would fill it out. Repulsed at her musing over her husband's physique - trim, lithe, and broad-shouldered, by the way -, she dropped the offending article.   
  
The vendor took her in with a blank frown. It wasn't everyday a pretty patron practically threw his merchandise into a puddle of muck. He may not be a Martha Stewart - God rest her soul - but he did do his best to create respectable goods. He observed her with a new interest and came to the conclusion that she was upset.  
  
With a hasty apology and a quick retrieval, Max tried to fold the shirt back up and salvage some of her dignity. It was no use. Dripping with the usual dirt, grime, and reeking of Eau de Seattle Sewage, there was no way the vendor could sell the shirt now, unless of course he had a washer hidden under his card table stand. Cursing the powers that be, Max sighed. Well if you blotch it, you buy it. Finally conceding, she handed over twenty dollars for the shirt. With a characteristic ease, the vendor chucked the sodden shirt into a plastic white sack, tying it airtight to avoid any wafting odors. Thanking the man with all the energy of a dead car battery, she reached for the bag. With her left hand. Ever so observant, the vendor caught the distinct glint of Post-Pulse gold on her fourth digit.   
  
"Fight with your husband, miss?" he asked lightly. The girl seemed astounded by his remark, but then gave a dismal grin and shrugged. He beamed down at her, handing over the sack. Surprisingly enough, the girl caught his energy and warmed up a little. The smile she cast at him then was a little less dismal.   
  
"I haven't really fought with him. Yet," Max said. Off of his confused look, she sarcastically asked, "Do you got an hour?"  
  
This comment, and the thinly veiled ache behind it, gave the vendor pause. Checking his watch, he looked down the street. Max swerved her head to see what he was looking for. A half of a block down the street, a teenage girl with an afro waved. The vendor waved in response. With unusual patience the vendor slid his hand under her arm and led her to an empty chair underneath the ledge of a nearby cafe. "Wait here," he commanded softly. Max watched him run back over to his booth and signal for the girl to take over. Grabbing a small brown paper sack from under his card table, he hurried back over to where Max was.  
  
"I'll take my lunch now," he said nonchalantly. He offered her part of it but she refused politely. He shrugged his shoulders as if saying "Oh well" and was about to dig into his sandwich when he smacked his head with his palm. "Where are my manners? My name is Alex, but most people call me Dick." He held out his hand in greeting.  
  
Max almost fell out of her chair. Catching herself, she took his hand and shook it firmly. "Max," she said. She paused for a moment, not sure how to ask, but Dick seemed to guess her train of thought.   
  
"Growing up, my mom never said 'Don't mess with that.' It was always, 'Don't dick with that.' Needless to say, I was a rather curious kid, tinkering with everything I could get my grubby little hands on. So soon she just started calling me Dick, and it caught on like a brush fire," he explained easily.   
  
"Oh."  
  
Sensing her need for prodding, he lightly started, "So about this husband of yours."  
  
She did a quick double take, not sure if this man was really willing to listen. He seemed sincere enough. With a deep sigh, Max began to rehash the story. "I met him, oh, six or seven years ago. He was a real thorn in my side and..."  
  
*****  
  
Alec rang the doorbell politely. Hearing a TV shut off inside the ramshackle one-story house, he took a step back, sizing up the place. It was shabby, but not too much so. Obviously well kept despite poor funding. A garden grew a long the side of the steps leading up to the front door. None of the flowers could be developed into any known poisons so Alec quickly lost interest in them, investing his scrutiny somewhere else. A mangy mutt barked behind a rusted metal fence, but he was clearly well fed. Either that or "he" was a "she", and pregnant. The sound of multiple locks sliding open thrummed in his ears, pulling his attention back to more important things, like doing his job.   
  
The door cracked open. One blue-gray glassy eye peered out under the last chain link lock. "Who is it? What do you want?" a grandmotherly voice barked.   
  
"Jam Pony messenger, ma'am," he responded. "I have a package for you."   
  
"Oh." The last lock was unfastened under the command of a gnarly hand. Creaking open a little further, Alec found himself face to face with a regular Mother Hubbard. Well, chest to face, the woman couldn't have been too much taller than his stomach. She was the stereotypical grandmother type: slightly hunched, a few strands of gray interwoven into her snow-white hair, leathery faced, but an overall warm demeanor. Her eyes were what struck him: bright as a newborn baby's but as wise as the all-knowing night. Tipping his head slightly down to smile at the lady, he handed her the package and the slip for the signature, and quickly turned to patting down a pen in his pocket.   
  
The woman flitted an impatient hand in his direction. "Don't you worry about it, honey. I got a pen inside. Come in, sit down."  
  
"I really should hurry back to..."  
  
"Nonsense," she interrupted. Obviously she was used to having her way. Figuring she lived in a neighborhood most thugs wouldn't dream of entering - much less any family she might have - and was probably lonely, he breached the entry. Closing the oak door behind him, he dutifully slid one of the locks into its latch and strolled into the living room.   
  
Still standing, Alec couldn't shake his instinctive reaction to check all possible exits. Two doors, four windows - two covered with cardboard. That issue settled, he vacantly glanced around the sparse room. A small TV sat next to a rotted out fireplace, books adorned the far wall. With an eclectic mixture of Stars of David, ceramic angels, and popcorn Jesus', the room was filled with an engaging air. The lady hummed in the kitchen, her hushed tones soothing to Alec's raw nerves.   
  
Max had done it again. Maybe it was better that they were married though. Now he had a ready excuse for her invading his inmost thoughts every five seconds. Alec glanced down at his ring ruefully. They weren't to be married much longer anyway, which was probably for the best. Sure he was in love with her, he could admit that to himself. But there was only so much beating a Manticore ego - a male Manticore ego - could take. He was tired of constantly beating around the bush with that chick. It was about time they sat down and had a little one-to-one.   
  
The scent of baking swam across the living room. Glancing behind him, he saw the woman meander towards him - weaving through piles of dirty laundry and exercise tapes - heavy laden with a tray of oatmeal cookies. Skipping past the last "Buns of Steel" video, her gaze transferred from the perilous floor up to him, and scowled cheerfully. Shifting the coarse silver tray to one knobby hand, she took the other and forcefully led him to a well-worn sofa, throwing him onto it amiably. "I thought I told you to sit down," she admonished. Surprised by the woman's wiry strength, he pulled himself to a more suitable position.   
  
"I really should be heading back to work, ma'am. I'll just get the slip and..." Again, one distorted hand batted in his direction, the unsaid "Nonsense!" hung in the air. And again, she intimidated Alec out of carrying out his plans of retreat. Once she tossed him a warm cookie she flopped down on sofa, almost in Alec's lap. Placing her slender fingers maternally on his thigh, she croaked out, "Now, what seems to be your problem?"   
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Don't play stupid, young man. You walk into my house with the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you pretend nothing is wrong. Listen, you'll probably never see me again, so why not confide to a lonely old woman." She glanced down to his left hand. "The wife giving you the runaround or something?"  
  
Tired of the same evading of the same issues, Alec gave in on a sigh. Judging by the marks of age revamping her face, she had lived in the world long enough to know up from down. And he was in desperate need of some different advice. Sure, Joshua was always supportive, but he viewed the world too simply. Either that or Alec viewed the world too bleakly. Whichever way, they weren't working on the same wavelength on this one. Dix was too absorbed in his books; Luke was engrossed in his own quest for the tribulations that were a package deal with the gentler sex. Original Cindy was out of question, and so was Mole. On the one hand, Cindy knew too much already. On the other, Mole would probably be just as likely to shoot his wife as look at her. With a half-wary, half-hopeful peek at his companion, who was still staring intently into his face, genuine in her offer of help, he caved. Why not? He'd probably never see her again anyway.   
  
"It's not so much the 'runaround' as it is...everything," he admitted emotionlessly, his head cracking back against the wood frame of the sofa.   
  
"Everything?"  
  
"Yeah, everything. I feel like she keeps raising the bar on me."  
  
"So why not limbo underneath it?" Alec laughed humorlessly.   
  
"Tried it. It was even worse."  
  
The lady peered at the discouraged face next to her. "Break the bar, tape it back together, and tell her where the bar should sit. It seems to me like you need to stand up for yourself." she said simply.  
  
"It's not that easy!" Alec roared, startling the poor woman out of her wits. Seeing he had frightened her, he turned slightly and gently wrapped his fingers around her biceps. He couldn't even look her in the eye, ashamed of his past, his temper, and himself. "It's not that easy," he repeated, soft and defeated, staring at her chin.   
  
Two waxy fingers, tipped his cheek to meet her eyes. Again, he was struck by their simple wisdom. "There's more, isn't there?" Obviously he had still misjudged her scrutiny.   
  
"Yeah, I'm in love with her." Off of her confused stare, he began to rehash the entire story. "We met like, six, maybe seven years ago. She was a pain in my side - actually my stomach - from the beginning and..."  
  
*****  
  
Two more packages and then it was lunchtime. Her stomach growled in appreciation and Max absentmindedly patted it, reassuring her appetite that she would definitely be eating. The first package went off without a hitch. The second package, though, was another story.  
  
Skipping up to the top floor of the picturesque ideal of most Seattle apartment buildings - thoroughly decomposed, overrun, and understaffed - the hair on the back of Max's neck jerked to attention. Senses heightened, particularly the sixth one. Shaking off her nerves, she went against her impulse to turn around and leave. A knocked rapped on the grimy apartment door. "Just a second," came the response inside. That voice sounded awfully familiar. Within the two seconds it took the tenant to reach the door, Max saw her already fragile world crumble. With an almost comical horror, her eyes darted to the turning knob. Luckily she composed herself by the time the door opened.   
  
Note to self: Never go against a gut instinct. You'll get burned every time.  
  
"Well, well, well," the girl simpered. "What do we have here?"  
  
"Minette," Max replied tersely. "I would be simply ecstatic if you could drop the schizophrenia for just two seconds and get one of your personalities to sign for a package."  
  
For once, Minette's eyes didn't flash, which was more disturbing than if she did. When her eyes flashed, you pissed her off. When they didn't, she held all the power.   
  
Probably because she slept with Alec last night.   
  
Inwardly, Max groaned. It wasn't enough that the knowledge of Alec hitting the sheets with Minette was painful to swallow. Minette didn't know that Max already knew about their little tryst, so it was going to be rubbed in her face. Again. As if spending an entire night tossing and turning, the possible scenarios and images playing out over and over again, wasn't quite enough for the powers that be. Ugh.  
  
The biggest catch in the entire affair was, why did she care?   
  
Again, ugh.  
  
"Hello? Max?"  
  
Shaken out of her thoughts, a telltale pink flew from Max's chest, past her throat, and to her cheeks. Forcing herself to stop impersonating a flamingo and return to her normal color, she mumbled a gruff "What?"  
  
"I just wanted to know what was in the package." Minette was the epitome of innocence. Yeah right.  
  
"Well quite frankly, I don't know what's in the package. It could be something from your pimp or your home planet for all I care. Just sign the slip."  
  
Suddenly tired of the pleasantries Minette made quick work of snatching the package and initialing for it. Ready to turn and leave, Max felt an elegant hand grace her arm. "Wait," Minette said, the devilish imp returning to her soulless eyes. "I forgot to give you your tip." Max purposely tried to ignore the heavy emphasis on the word "tip", for it couldn't be a good omen. With a quick turn on her light heels, Minette bounded down the hallway - to her room to be more exact - with an unexpectedly abundant energy. Uh oh. Within two shakes of a lamb's tail, she was back, a leather jacket gracing her palms. Alec's leather jacket.  
  
Physically, Max just stood staring at the betraying object. The only sign of any reaction was an acute paleness replacing her blush. Emotionally, Max was caught between having her fingers tightly wrapped around Minette's throat or testing her upchuck reflex all over the dingy hallway. In the back of her mind, she had clutched on to one thin strand of hope that maybe she was wrong, maybe Alec hadn't given into Minette. Well those hopes were officially dashed. Max finally shook herself out of her trance. Calm as possible, she muttered a slight "Oh." Acting as if she was suddenly remembering another chore, she grabbed at the jacket with as much decorum as she could muster. "Thanks for reminding me."   
  
Now it was Minette's turn to blanch. A strangled "Oh?" was all she could manage. She had pictured several delicious situations, ranging anywhere from complete horror and crumbling to livid anger. An "Oh, thanks for reminding me" was inconceivable.   
  
"Yeah, I told Alec I had packages over in this sector and he asked me to come by and pick up his jacket while I was over here." She hit her head as if she was idiotic. "Good thing I had a package to your place or I would have plumb forgotten the whole thing."  
  
Minette was just completely confused. "Alec told you..."  
  
"Oh yeah, he told me everything," Max said flippantly, shrugging her shoulders as if she didn't care. "It's no big deal either way. I'm actually surprised the whole fiasco took this long. His business is his business, not mine. Well, I hope you all had fun, but I really gotta jet." Turning on her heel, she threw on the jacket, climbed on her bike and flew down the street.  
  
Up until the last statement, Minette was convinced Alec had told Max everything. The fool probably admitted he was in love with her too. But in order for her to have "fun", she had to have slept with Alec. In order for Alec to tell Max everything, he would have to tell her that they didn't hit the sheets.   
  
Max knew nothing. That was the wringer. Max thought they had sex and she didn't even care. Minette couldn't set her straight, then she would have to admit failure. Go figure.  
  
The priceless look on Minette's face was the only thread that held Max's thin composure together until she was out of sight. Taking a sharp turn into a deserted alley, she slipped off of her bike, braced herself against the wall for support, and did something she hadn't enjoyed doing in a long, long time. She bawled her eyes out.   
  
*****  
  
Skidding into Jam Pony on his bike, Alec almost hit Original Cindy head-on. Pulling his weight to the right at the last moment, he acquainted himself with the lovely oil-dirt sealing on the floor. After grimacing and a few muttered choice phrases about women in general, he climbed to his feet with the X5 trademark of catlike grace. Hoisting the undamaged bike to a standing position, he encountered the straight gaze of an annoyed O.C.. Not even flinching at their near-fatal accident, she switched her weight to one hip and glared at Alec.  
  
"What?"   
  
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't beat you to a bloody pulp. Or even worse, sell you to Normal."   
  
Cindy looked...pissed. Alec nixed the idea of joking his way out of this corner. The crowd that had gathered to see Alec's stunt wasn't dispersing fast enough for his taste. Jerking his chin towards his locker, he walked away from the throng, his friend hot on his heels. With forced casualness, Alec placed the bike next to his locker, took out his lunch, and straddled a nearby bench. Taking a deep breath, he finally looked at Cindy again, who was now tapping her foot on the floor madly - though judging by the look on her face, she'd rather be tapping her palm on his head.  
  
"Well?" she snapped, tired of waiting.  
  
"Well what?"  
  
Jerking her chin up a fraction, Cindy shifted her weight to her opposite hip again. "Don't you 'well what' me, you know perfectly well 'well what'."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You and Minette!" Cindy shrieked. Half of the employees of Jam Pony, including the normally stoic Normal, snapped their heads in the duo's direction. "Go get your own conversations!" Even cowed under her anger, the crowd still wasn't leaving fast enough. Purposely overlooking the fact that Alec knew twenty different ways to kill her with his left hand, she hauled to boy out of Jam Pony.   
  
By his ear.   
  
Lydecker would be so proud, one of his cream of the crop super soldiers being manhandled down the alley by five and a half foot ordinary, and the only thing he was doing to even remotely defend himself was swearing all the way. The fact that she was a girl was just an added bonus.   
  
Finding an abandoned garage, Cindy pushed them into it. Upon her releasing his ear, Alec hunched over and looked at the ground in shock as if looking for broken pieces. "Now you listen boy, and you listen good," O.C. began, stalking away from him, unable to even glance in his direction. "I love Max, she's the best sista I eva had. And last night you betrayed her. You the worst kind of dog."  
  
"Okay first thing's first: I didn't sleep with Minette. Not that that would be 'betraying' her, as you suppose so. This has been a business deal from the beginning Cindy, strictly business. She has Logan..."  
  
"But she loves you!" Original Cindy interrupted. A stunned hush fell over the warehouse, both were unbelieving of what she just said. Finally, after a few dazed moments, Cindy redeemed herself, albeit unsteadily, "You love her, I mean."   
  
Alec slowly treaded in her direction, afraid of startling his prey. "What did you say?"  
  
"I said, 'You love her.'"  
  
"Nice try, the first time around."  
  
Cindy tilted her chin up a fraction, determined to stay silent. She had betrayed too much already. Alec saw the grit and loyalty in her eyes. "That's what I thought you said."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I know, not too much action in this chapter. "Sheesh, the girl has the nerve to not update for weeks and no action! What a creep!" This was more of a "setup" space. I haven't decided exactly which way I am going to take this come next chapter. Several scenarios have invaded my precious sleep time, but I have yet to decide a final cut.   
  
Thank you for your reviews! 


	15. Silent Squall

Disclaimer: .... (If you don't get the picture by now, I wash my hands of you.)

Alec slid onto his barstool with a happy sigh. Thrumming his fingers on the beer-sleek countertop merrily, he hummed along to the song blaring over Crash's loudspeakers. Hummed may be a little generous, considering the actual melody was muddled inside the ever-throbbing beat, even to his hypersensitive ears. "Hey Mike," he called out, waving his finger in the tall bartender's direction, "the usual and a pitcher." Nodding briskly, Mike wheeled around and started working diligently on the order. 

"Thanks, man," Alec said upon receiving his purchases. Pulling out an extra five, he slapped it down on the counter. "Quick tip for quick service," he quipped. Eyeing Mike's latest hairdo, he added, "Maybe you should go try again at the barbershop. But maybe you should have Mr. Jones put his glasses on _before _he starts snippin'." 

"Ha, ha," Mike retorted. "One of these days I'm gonna..." he halted mid finger shaking, knowing there was no way to complete any viable threat on his part. Alec could have him pinned in a nanosecond.

"Hmm...what was that?"

"...let your wife kick you outta my bar." Alec snorted in response, grabbing his wares and snaking back through the crowd, where O.C. and Sketchy were waiting.

Original Cindy: newly appointed knightess in shining armor and savior. Maybe he didn't stand a chance with Max in the "Love Canal", he knew he didn't deserve it, but her little slip-up had given him something he hadn't really allowed himself to feel in years: hope. He slipped into the seat next to Sketchy, who was in the midst of another one of his nonsensical ramblings. 

"...It just doesn't make sense O.C., for something to be as 'dead as a doornail'. It wasn't alive in the first place."

"It means fool, that it shows how dead the thing is because it is being compared to something that was never alive." Judging by the stressed tone of her voice, this was a continued conversation, and O.C. was an unwilling participant in it.

"But if it was never alive how can it be dead? Why would you compare biotic to abiotic? In the end, the living-nonliving shouldn't be compared because they're not on the same scale." 

"Whateva, fool. Original Cindy is tired of arguing with your obtuse behind."

"Excuse me, O.C., but my butt is not fat." Unable to control her burning hand, she walloped Sketchy upside the back of his greasy head, giving off a very satisfying "Whack!"

Alec looked back and forth between the two rivals and smirked. Deciding to intervene before Sketchy lost anymore of his scarce brain cells to O.C.'s P.M.S., he asked, "How do these scintillating conversations come about anyway?"

"How else?" O.C. asked. "Smokey ova here got new weed. So pretty soon his starts pestering people with, 'If corn oil comes from corn, where does baby oil come from?' and 'Why are the lines so much longer outside the girls restroom then guys?' and 'Do we move ourselves from place to place, or does the world start spinning very quickly where we are?'" She threw an extra dirty look to the doped-up man in question just for good measure. "But what Original Cindy wants to know is: why does she always get stuck with these questions? Why can't he just bother you or Max?"

"Because the only way to hinder my ramblings is to give me a decent swat upside the head. Between Max and Alec's tampered DNA, I might never wake up," Sketchy gripped, following up his unusually eloquent and weed-induced spiel with a few choice mutterings about black lesbians from broken homes, all the while massaging the back of his head. 

"It would only do the world a favor. You might as well stop rubbing your head. All you doin' is rearranging the grease," O.C. snipped, purposefully ignoring Sketchy's sneer in response. Changing tactics, he looked plaintively in Alec's direction. "How come she always gets the last word, huh?"

"Estrogen equals brainpower," she deadpanned. 

*****

Slinking her way through hazardous territory, the lioness stalked her prey. She scrutinized his confident stroll, the way he slid back into the comfort levels of being with the rest of his pride. His entire aura exuded confidence, even more so than usual, powerful and potent. His eyes stared unwaveringly into his companions, communicating his control over any situation. Well, almost any situation. Even a lion had an Achilles' Heel, a chink in his sleek and sinewy fur coat. 

Coming out slowly from behind an alcove, she moved like a Sahara-born lioness, nimbly parting the grasses, or in this case, masses. Quick deft steps made no sound against the beer-splattered floor. Eyes locked on target, the lines between humanity and animalism blurred. Calls echoed off deaf ears. She was in the zone. The prey was finally within her grasp. One paw shot out, landing on Alec's shoulder.

Alec jumped at the contact of a demanding hand gripping his shoulder. He whirled around to face his assailant, calming when his saw it was just his wife. His eyes clutched hers, refusing to let go. But it wasn't Max. Just a Max-shell, filled with fury, irritation, and an all-consuming vortex of emotions better left unclear, all stirred up with a splash of lemon, to reveal a Max he was completely unprepared to deal with in his present state of unusual giddiness. 

What had he done this time? 

"Hey Max," he started honestly. If there was one thing he'd learned over the last 16 months it was that the normal fabrication of smooth, sly confidence never got him out of her doghouse. If anything, it just pushed him back further inside an already too-tight corner. 

Alec watched surreptitiously as Max slowly regained herself from whatever whirlwind she had mysteriously found herself ambushed by, as the storm slowly cleared. For the time being anyway. Her breathing evened out, her pulse slowed dramatically, and the feral gleam lost its hold on her eyes. Shaking her head smartly, she pushed the last of the demons under the rug inside her mind, but the cobwebs were still there. Old fears still held a hard-handed and unmerciful grip on her. Only when most of the fog cleared did Alec dare remove his eyes from hers. 

*****

Somewhere over the past six years in their pseudo-friendship, Alec found himself giving Max a once over every time he saw her. Partly for concern for her well being - because quite frankly, she had the higher tendency for getting herself into trouble than he did. Alec only messed with pond scum for fun; she was the one always trying to catch the big fish, alone, in the name of Eyes Only and his holy idealism - and partly for the sake of natural curiosity. He was unconcerned by the realization at first, for it was quite obvious that she was a beautiful woman, even for a transgenic. The way she carried herself caught everybody's eye; her confident vulnerability. The epitome of walking contradictions gracing their disciplined midst. Half of the former citizens of Terminal City couldn't always decide whether to hug her or really throttle her, not unlike the husband himself.

So partway through his split second, traditional inspection he found his eyes shooting from her knees back up to her shoulders and retracing her upper torso a bit more meticulously in re-examination. Max was wearing his jacket. The one he left at Minette's place. Not that he really owned any other jacket, but for his inner sake of drama, that sorry fact stood out on the tip of his mind, waiting to fall over the brink. 

Somebody kill him now. 

He tensed for an attack...

He could see the headlines now: "Transgenic meets unfortunate end when infidelity shown bare," "Pathetic partner pays price for prior pretenses," and "Stupid spouse stuck in cement shoes." It's amazing how lyrical the transgenic mind gets under pressure, severe pressure. Alec would rather take a good beating and a year in isolation than one of Max's long-time-coming-intolerance-coiled-oh-so-tightly-Jesus-take-me-home rampages.

...but the attack never came. 

Unnerved by Alec's cold stare at her chest, Max glanced down, half expecting to find the words "Kill Alec" scrawled across her breasts in permanent red ink. "Oh," she said. She took off the jacket with classic - and more importantly, nonviolent - ease. She handed it off to Alec with a noncommittal shrug, who took it, dumbfounded and amazingly forlorn by her lack of...anything. 

"I had a run over by Minette's today," she said casually. "Apparently you forgot it after your date last night." She rolled her eyes in Cindy's direction, who reciprocated the motion, noticing the sheen of unshed tears in Max's eyes. "I'm bushed," she informed Cindy. "I'm heading home." With a sharp turn she strolled towards the neon orange exit sign - her North Star to sweet freedom -, begging her ragged emotions to hold out for a few more precious moments.

Unfortunately, the powers that be had other plans...

Alec's voice rang out behind her. "Hey Max, I'll come with you." She stopped in the middle of the bar floor, swore back the tears biting her eyelids, and beseeched the rafters of Crash to send down some lightening bolts to kill her now, or even better, the bastard standing right behind her. 

*****

Not only was the tension thick, but it was one of those really uncomfortable types, the reverberating kind. The reverberating in silence kind. It was smothering. Each footfall echoed in shrill agony. The age-smoothed handrails were gravel-like under Max's graceful fingers. Finally the pair reached their floor.

"Well, that had to be the longest two stories in my life," Alec quipped, ill met by the stony silence. Nothing quite thickens the tension between two parties like a good wisecrack gone sour. Something about that quick flick of light only made the darkness seem more consuming. 

He dared a glance across his shoulder towards Max...well where Max had been. Obviously seeing the finish line sparked the last wind in her. She made a beeline for their door, whipping out her key. Slamming it into the deadbolt, she made quick work of opening the door, and practically blurred into bathroom - the only room in the apartment with a lock. The jingle of a hot running shower rang in Alec's ears when he arrived at the breach of their oh-so-humble abode half a minute later. 

With a weighty sigh Alec stood at the entrance, noting that Max had forgotten to close the door in her rush for privacy. How typical of their relationship and of Max. She rushes through life, barges through a door, but never bothers to close it. She opened Pandora's box and instead of sticking it out, she ran away. Or maybe she opened the door, and now it was his responsibility to walk through, and deal with the chaos.

Whatever the philosophical implication, he needed another drink. Pronto. Crossing himself derisively, he stepped into Hell's fury, closing the door behind him, mind you. By God he should be canonized. St. Alec: patron saint of alcoholics, cat burglars, and failed marriages. What was the address to the Vatican again?

More importantly, where was his emergency stash of bourbon? He'd need all the liquid courage he had to finish his dreaded task. But mid-step towards his emergency stash, he swerved violently towards the kitchen counter.

Cursing those deities responsible, Alec heaved out a countertop drawer in the kitchen and flipped it over; heedless to the shrill protestations of the silverware's plunge being broken by the unforgiving tile floor. With single-minded sobriety, he gently fingered the folder trapped in the hinge underneath the drawer. He extracted the folder from its hideout, and hauled it to the countertop as if it weighed a metric ton. Staring at the crisp but dusty folder, Alec's eyes blurred between aspiration and misery, each battling for dominance neither could have, but the irony never wavered.

An alpha-male transgenic's doom or emancipation teetered on the edge of a manila folder.

Go figure.

*****

Max stepped out of the shower, feeling completely unrefreshed but very despondent. Not even towel drying, she threw on an old pair of sweatpants and a Mardi Gras T-shirt she had so unselfishly rescued from the mildew in the bottom of Alec's drawers. Summoning her senses from the corners of the globe, she swiped the condensation from the bathroom mirror. 

The face that stared back at her wasn't her own. The cheeks were too pale, the eyes too red and puffy from crying under the shower's heated spray. She leaned forward slightly, her breath collecting on the already watery surface. Some small element inside her wanted desperately to memorize every detail of her face, the emotion it masked. The withdrawn eyes, the ugly compression of her lips. 

The fear of the unknown was the worst. Even now, Max couldn't place a finger on her jealousy of the luscious Minette, or why she felt like Alec had betrayed her. The emotions swirling in the pit of her stomach and breaking her heart from the inside out went unnamed.

But there was one thing she knew. She didn't know how she knew it or even why it applied. But deep down in the rock bottom of her defeated heart, the three words echoed from the depths, crescendoing as they rose closer to the unnamed motive. The words mocked her in an unrelenting upsurge, until the only relief from their taunts was to voice the three words she never thought she would use with Alec:

"You blew it."

Go figure. 

*****

"What is that?" Max asked with forced nonchalance, breaking Alec out of his trance. His head snapped up, momentarily confused. Of course, even in the direst of times he couldn't help but notice how sexy his clothes looked on her, under the flickering fluorescent light of the kitchen bulbs.

"A manila folder," he replied dryly before taking down another gulp of his bourbon. It was almost time for a refill he noticed, peering at the low meniscus in his glass. Max said something in reply, probably one of her oh-so-witty comebacks, but Alec was far too engrossed in his alcohol. Or rather, he was far to engrossed in what the alcohol was supposed to be chasing away. Pity it wasn't doing its job. "You're fired," Alec mumbled under his breath, placing the glass on the countertop. He walked across the room and glared out the window, all too conscious of Max's eyes boring into his every step.

Alec tried counting to ten. He tried taking deep breaths. He had tried drinking. Nothing was giving him the nerve to finish out his mission. If only he'd tried harder. If only he'd apologized when he should've. If only he hadn't been so damn cocky. If only...

"Hello!" Max's impatient voice pierced the silence, coming from right behind him. With transgenic grace, albeit startled grace, Alec whirled around and fell back against the wall.

The naked expression on his face made Max think twice and soften her tone. "Are you alright Alec? You seem kind of distracted."

Alec searched Max's eyes for some sign of hope but all he found was multi-layered confusion. It wasn't going to be enough. A sweet, pained look flashed across his face. It would be easier once it was over, he thought. It was far worse being right next to someone you couldn't touch than letting them drift away. 

Stepping around a still bemused Max, he made his way for the folder, each step accompanied by a memory. Their first meeting at Manticore. The rehashing of Ben. The stand off at Jam Pony. Max being sick. Max taking care of him while he was sick. He arrived in front of the folder and picked it up carefully. A sigh rang out from him. Where to begin?

"I fell in love with you." Okay so that was roughly the middle, or maybe even towards the end. 

This was never the scenario he played out in his head. Though a mere male and a soldier, even he had conjured up more "romantic" declarations of love. He'd always pictured it to be more like their first kiss, him practically having to throw her into a wall and yell it into her face. But that when he thought he was going to have to fight. This scenario was incredibly anti-climatic. Now he knew that he'd lost, he blew it. From the moment Max didn't rip him a new one for supposedly sleeping with Minette, he knew he'd lost. She didn't even care. The fight was over. She didn't love him. 

Plunging ahead in his jumbled and incredibly "unromantic" speech, he dropped the airs, continuing on in defeated monotone. "I didn't sleep with Minette. I had every intention, but never went through with it. Another thing I failed at, huh Maxie?" He laughed in self-derision, staring at the folder, losing his nerve to look up at Max. He didn't want to see her disgust, or even worse, her pity. She loved Logan, deal with it. "So I'm in bed with this gorgeous woman, and all I could feel was your sick breath on my neck from that bug you caught. Or your fist smacking into my bicep. Or even your army tailored boot kicking me in my stomach from over six years ago.

"I am distracted. I have been distracted for over six years now. You really have this talent, Maxie, for getting under a guy's skin. You make me want to scratch my arm until it bleeds. And I have been scratching, for six years. But you know what? The itch doesn't subside; it only grows until I'm so frenzied I can't think straight. I'm ready to give up scratchin' and let my wounds heal."

He picked up the folder and tossed it to her like a frisbee. Max caught it out of reflex, but other than that her body was solid stone, frozen ice. 

"They're the divorce papers. I managed to talk the authorities down a couple months; all you have to do is sign them. I already did. You can run them down by the court house tomorrow after you sign them and you can go live your happily ever after with Logan. Original Cindy has most of your stuff back over at her place; you can go back tonight." Under his breath, so soft that Max knew she wasn't supposed to have heard it, he continued. 

"I'm tired of being married to a woman who's in love with another man."

Silence. Max glanced down at the folder, her ticket to sweet freedom.

Silence. Her fingertips traced to paper corners suspiciously before opening it up and glancing through it.

Silence. She closed the folder with a soft "whish".

Max regained her senses and stepped towards her husband slowly, as if afraid to startle him. He seemed no longer aware of her presence, lost in his own little world. An eerie wave of deja vu washed over her. Her hand reached out towards his shoulder but was intercepted by his own chiseled palm. "I don't want your pity," he sighed. Painstakingly slow, his head turned towards her, his eyes tracing her face. The wounded orbs started at her chin, weaving bit by bit up her jaw line, across her cheek, up the arc of her nose, and finally into her own pained eyes. He looked so vulnerable, ready to fall into her arms. His heart was on his sleeve. But she wasn't going to accept it. His eyes hardened in resolve, and he tossed her hand back to her, returning to his forgotten drink.

"Just go."

And Max did go. She made it all the way to her ninja before stopping. 

It was feeling the rubber grips that made realize her first love - her baby, the extension of her soul -, was no longer her ninja.

It was Alec.

She spotted several "address-challenged" people gathered around a burning trashcan. Briskly crossing the distance between them she sidled up next to them, adding her offering to the stoked flames. The papers burned brightly, Max could feel her whole face alight in its glow. The ash remains drifted merrily through the air, as if they were pleased to have been burnt to a crisp. A woman next to her eyed her curiously. She turned a blazed a smile on the wary woman, the smile of a war torn soldier finally finding her way home. "I feel warmer already," she quipped. The woman managed a gap-toothed smile in return. 

Blurring the distance, Max flew across the parking lot, through the abandoned lobby, up two flights of stairs and towards his door. Stopping short at the doorway, she knocked impatiently. The scuffle of feet crossing a tile floor was music to Max's ears. As the door cracked open, that tiny shred of light shining through, and Max knew the tidbit of information she'd been fighting for almost six years. She knew Its name.

She was at Home with Alec. She Loved him.

Go Figure.

The end. 

God bless each and every one of you who reviewed and even those who didn't review but might have enjoyed the story. I fell in love with you all. 

God bless (again),

Kricket.


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